The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 


. 


Gilmore  saw  before  him  the  broad  back  of  Jack  Shaw  and  instantly 
drove  two  bullets  through  it. 

Frontispiece.     See  page  318. 


The  Owner  of 
the  Lazy  D 

By 

WILLIAM  PATTERSON  WHITE 


WITH   FRONTISPIECE  BY 

ANTON  OTTO  FISCHER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1919 


Copyright,  1919, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved 
Published  August,  1919 


61 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 


M692875 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  dusty  young  man  riding  the  wiry  little 
dun  was  singing  as  if  he  hadn't  a  care  in  the 
world: 

"Around  her  neck  she  wore  a  yellow  ribbon ; 

She  wore  it  in  December  and  in  the  month  of  May. 
I  asked  her  why  she  wore  the  yellow  ribbon ; 
She  said  because  her  lover  was  far,  far  away ! ' ' 

A  not  too  distant  rifle  cracked  a  period. 
Zung-g-g!  The  bullet  ripped  past  not  far  over- 
head. 

"  Good  line,  but  high,"  remarked  the  dusty 
young  man,  cocking  a  cheerful  eye  at  the  quarter- 
mile  sweep  of  rising  ground  in  front  of  his  horse's 
nose.  "  Does  the  gentleman  mean  me?  "  he  con- 
tinued in  a  drawl.  "  He  couldn't  'a'  heard  me 
singin'  through  half  a  mile  o'  solid  earth,  an'  he 
couldn't  'a'  expected  to  drill  me  through  the 
same.  No,  not  the  way  they're  loadin'  shells 
nowadays.  Still " 

The  drawling  voice  trailed  into  silence  as  the 
rider  drew  a  well-kept  Winchester  from  under  his 
leg.  Clicking  a  cartridge  into  the  chamber,  he 
rode  forward  to  where  a  ragged  outcrop  crowned 
the  rising  ground.  In  the  rear  of  the  rocky  scarp 
he  dismounted  and  flung  the  reins  over  his  horse's 


4         The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

head.  He  crawled  rapidly  round  the  outcrop 
and  settled  himself  between  two  boulders. 

His  cheerful  eyes  had  lost  none  of  their  joy- 
ousness.  Darkly  blue  and  very  bright,  their 
dancing  merriness  belied  the  unmistakable 
strength  of  the  straight  nose  and  the  wide  mouth. 

"  Fine!  "  announced  the  young  man,  when  one 
rapid  glance  had  taken  in  all  there  was  to  see. 
"  Fine,  an'  then  some!  " 

Comfortably  flat  on  his  stomach,  elbows  on  the 
ground,  square  chin  cupped  in  the  palms  of  two 
lean,  brown  hands,  he  stared  at  what  promised  to 
be  a  fairly  moving  little  drama. 

From  where  he  lay  the  ground  fell  away  in  a 
mile-long  slope  to  the  thin,  double  line  of  cotton- 
woods  fringing  a  meandering  creek.  Half-way 
down  the  slope,  where  the  combination  of  a  small 
hollow,  a  dozen  tamaracks,  and  an  up-flung  lip  of 
rock  afforded  shelter,  a  mite  of  a  fire  burned  fit- 
fully. On  one  side  of  the  fire  two  hog- tied 
yearlings  beat  the  earth  with  their  outraged  heads 
and  groaned  dismally.  On  the  opposite  side  of 
the  fire  two  horses  stood  quietly.  Beyond  the 
horses,  one  among  the  tamaracks,  the  other  be- 
hind the  lip  of  rock,  two  individuals  lay  flat  and 
eyed  the  landscape  below  them  through  the  sights 
of  their  Winchesters. 

"  Rustlers !  "  drawled  the  young  man.  *  The 
other  outfit  is  shorely  cautious  a  lot,"  he  added 
after  a  moment,  with  a  slow  smile.  "  Only  the 
one  shot,  an'  that  so  high  she  sailed  clean  over 
the  ridge!" 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D          5 

Interestedly  his  gaze  traveled  across  and  across 
the  face  of  the  flat  beyond  the  creek,  and  the 
scarred  slope  of  a  ri^ge  beyond  the  flat.  Nothing 
but  bunch-grass  moved  in  the  breeze.  He  had 
not  expected  that  any  living  thing  would;  but  he 
was  a  thorough  person,  efficient  in  all  that  he  did. 

From  the  unprofitable  searching  of  the  flat  the 
blue  eyes  skimmed  the  lines  of  the  cottonwoods 
marching  along  the  banks  of  the  creek. 

"  They're  Injunin'  along  behind  the  cut-bank 
o'  the  creek/'  he  mused.  "  That's  what  I'd  do  if 
I  was  a  posse — surround  'em,  you  betcha!  An' 
them  two  rustlers  know  it,  too." 

He  could  see  the  two  among  the  tamaracks 
turning  their  heads  toward  each  other.  They 
appeared  to  argue.  The  slighter  one  shook  his 
head  determinedly.  His  tall  companion  rolled 
across  to  him,  seized  him  by  the  ankles,  and 
dragged  him  backward. 

This  evidently  decided  the  matter.  The 
slighter  fellow  instantly  jammed  his  Winchester 
into  its  scabbard,  mounted  a  horse  on  the  fly,  and 
was  off  up  the  slope,  quirting  like  mad. 

His  comrade,  equally  swift,  tore  away  on  a 
course  paralleling  the  banks  of  the  creek.  Im- 
mediately several  rifles  among  the  cottonwoods 
crackled  hysterically;  but  both  the  fleeing  riders 
raced  onward  unchecked. 

When  the  young  man  between  the  boulders 
saw  one  of  the  rustlers  heading  in  his  direction, 
he  made  as  if  to  shove  his  Winchester  forward; 
but  he  thought  better  of  that.  Instead,  he 


6         The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

scuttled  crablike  round  the  rear  of  the  outcrop, 
ran  to  his  saddle,  and  came  back  with  his  rope. 
Peering  cautiously  over  the  edge,  he  beheld  the 
advancing  rider  within  six  jumps  of  him. 

As  the  horse  flashed  past,  the  young  man's 
wrist  flipped  outward  and  downward.  He 
braced  himself  backward,  digging  his  heels  into 
the  ground,  the  rope  snubbed  over  his  hip.  Fore- 
footed,  the  horse  stood  on  his  nose  and  piled  his 
rider. 

The  young  man  dropped  his  rope  and  sprang 
forward,  pulling  his  six-shooter;  but  there  \vas 
no  need  of  lethal  weapons.  A  twenty-foot  flight 
through  the  air  and  a  landing  made  mainly  on 
one's  stomach  are  not  conducive  to  combative- 
ness. 

Gasping  painfully  for  breath,  the  erstwhile 
rider  was  pulled  over  on  his  back.  The  young 
man  knelt  beside  him.  Blue  eyes  looked  into  soft 
amber  ones.  There  was  now  a  rather  terror- 
stricken  expression  in  the  young  man's  face;  for 
the  hat  of  the  individual  fighting  for  breath  had 
fallen  off,  and  above  the  amber  eyes  was  a  healthy 
mop  of  disheveled,  honey-colored  hair — honey- 
colored  hair  with  hairpins  in  it.  Hairpins? 
Exactly. 

It  was  a  red  pair  of  lips,  indeed,  between  which 
the  white  teeth  showed,  and  an  angry  bruise  on 
one  cheek  did  not  derogate  from  the  startling  fact 
that  this  rustler  was  the  prettiest  girl  the  young 
man  had  ever  seen.  An  instant  only  he  stared. 
Then,  without  hesitation,  he  fled  to  his  boulders 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D         7 

and  began  pumping  lead  at  three  earnest  citizens 
who  were  climbing  the  hill  at  the  full  stretch  of 
their  ponies. 

The  first  shot  dropped  a  pony.  The  horse- 
man expertly  disengaged  his  feet  from  the 
stirrups  and  flopped  down  behind  the  dead 
animal.  The  other  two  men  whirled  their 
mounts  and  rode  for  the  cottonwoods.  The 
young  man  grinned  and  flanked  them  with  bul- 
lets. 

Smack!  The  fellow  behind  the  dead  horse 
drove  a  bullet  against  the  face  of  the  boulder  on 
the  young  man's  left.  Rock  splinters  stung  his 
forehead.  He  snuggled  close  to  the  ground 
and  planted  two  shots  in  the  body  of  the  dead 
horse. 

"  I  don't  want  to  down  the  fool,"  he  observed 
calmly. 

"Then  if  you  don't,  I  do!"  chimed  in  an 
irritated  voice  in  his  immediate  rear.  "  Get  up, 
will  yuh,  and  give  me  a  chance?  " 

The  young  man  edged  to  one  side  and  glanced 
over  his  shoulder.  Ten  feet  away  knelt  the  girl. 
Her  hat  was  clamped  down  over  her  eyes,  and 
she  was  handling  a  cocked  rifle. 

"  Y'  all  right  now? "  queried  the  young  man 
irrelevantly. 

"  No  thanks  to  you  if  I  am! "  replied  the  lady 
with  spirit.  "  Would  you  mind  telling  me  why 
you  first  rope  my  horse  and  then  about-face  and 
fight  for  me?  At  least,  I  infer  you  are  fighting 
for  me,  in  spite  of  your  remarking  that  you  don't 


8         The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

intend  to  kill  Tom  Johnson  down  there.  Who 
are  you,  anyway? " 

"  Me?     Oh,  I'm  just  a  man.     I " 

"  I  didn't  take  you  for  a  cow,  stranger.  What 
are  your  politics? " 

"  That  depends,  ma'am.  I  ain't  a  frequent 
voter." 

She  gave  him  an  odd  look,  and  turned  to  glance 
at  her  horse,  which  had  risen  to  its  feet  and  was 
cropping  grass.  When  she  faced  him  again,  she 
was  smiling. 

"  Stranger,"  she  said,  "  let's  drag  it! " 

"  No  sense  in  danglin',"  he  agreed  amiably. 
"  Can  yore  horse  carry  yuh? " 

"  He  can  walk,  anyway,"  she  answered,  and 
absent-mindedly  started  to  rise  to  her  feet. 

With  a  fierce  grunt  the  young  man  bounced 
upward  and  fairly  smothered  her  to  earth. 

"  Haven't  yuh  any  better  sense  than  that? " 
he  demanded  gruffly.  "  Those  fellahs  down 
yonder  have  rifles.  There's  no  real  reason  to 
keep  'em  from  makin'  a  center  shot  once  in  a 
while,  an'  once  is  'most  always  enough." 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  did  start  to  stand 
up,"  she  said  shamefacedly,  as  he  got  to  his  own 
knees  and  helped  her  to  hers.  "  I — I  forgot. 
I  guess  I  never  did  such  a  foolish  thing  be- 
fore." 

"  Don't  do  it  again,  then,"  he  admonished, 
assisting  her  down-hill  to  her  horse. 

"  You  stood  up,  though.     Why?  " 

"  Me?     Oh,  I  guess  I  just  forgot,  too." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D         9 

"  It's  likely,  quite  likely.  First  you  land  me 
and  my  horse  on  our  heads,  then  you  fight  for 
me,  and  now  you  protect  me  from  possible  bullets 
with  your  own  body.  You're  an  odd  number! 
Are  you  by  any  chance  a  deputy?  " 

With  a  quick  motion  she  flicked  open  his  vest. 
Her  amber  eyes  searched  for  the  betraying  star 
and  found  it  not.  He  laughed  lightly. 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  me,"  he  assured  her. 

The  amber  eyes  darkened. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  you!  "  she  flashed.  "  I'm 
not  afraid  of  anybody." 

She  stooped  for  her  bridle.  Before  she  was 
in  the  saddle  he  flitted  to  his  boulders  once  more, 
to  send  one  shot  into  the  dead  horse  and  one 
among  the  cottonwoods. 

"  Hurry! "  she  commanded  when  he  returned 
to  her.  '  That  Injun  trick  may  keep  'em  amused 
and  where  they  are,  but  I'll  gamble  the  limit 
they're  trotting  up  and  down  the  creek  trying  to 
surround  us  again !  " 

"  How  many  are  there? "  he  inquired,  as  he 
mounted. 

"  Ten  or  a  dozen — all  of  Tom  Johnson's 
gang,"  she  replied  indifferently.  "  Straight  for 
that  draw,  stranger.  We'll  throw  'em  off.  I'll 
show  you.  I  wonder  how  many  chased  dad," 
she  added  reflectively. 

"  Dad — the  man  with  you?  " 

She  noddecj,  glancing  sidewise  at  him  out  of 
her  amber  eyes. 

"  I'm  not  worried,"  she  said.     "  He  always 


10       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

gets  away,  my  dad.  I  was  merely  trying  to 
figure  out  how  many  were  after  us." 

"  Us ! "  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  word 
implied  a  certain  degree  of  intimacy  with  a  rus- 
tler, the  blue-eyed  young  man  experienced  a  real 
thrill.  It  began  somewhere  in  the  small  of  his 
back  and  branched  out  into  both  his  shoulders. 

"What's  the  matter— cold? "  asked  the  lady 
solicitously. 

"  No,  ma'am,  no.  Pin  stuck  in  me,  I  s'pose. 
Glad  I  didn't  damage  yore  hoss." 

'  You  didn't,  stranger,  but  you  might  have." 

Again  she  gave  him  the  odd  look  with  which 
she  had  favored  him  there  beside  the  outcrop. 
She  lapsed  into  a  silence  which  was  not  broken 
for  nearly  two  hours,  during  which  time  they  rode 
the  draws  religiously.  At  last,  coming  to  a 
place  where  a  long  draw  forked,  she  checked  her 
horse.  Turning  in  the  saddle,  she  stared  at  him 
steadfastly.  In  spite  of  her  brass-studded  chaps, 
her  man's  shirt  and  vest,  he  thought  she  looked  all 
that  was  feminine  and  lovely. 

"  It's  shorely  wonderful  what  the  Western 
climate  does ! "  he  remarked,  suddenly  moved  to 
speech. 

"  Meaning? " 

"  Everything,  ma'am,  everything,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

Since  he  continued  to  gaze  upon  her  with  an 
admiration  that  was  as  patent  as  it  was  sincere, 
the  explanation  was  not  convincing.  She  eyed 
him  doubtfully  for  a  space. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        11 

"  Never  mincl ! "  she  said  finally.  *  You 
haven't  answered  my  question  as  to  your  politics. 
Honest,  now — are  you  for  us  or  against  us?  " 

"  I'm  for  you,  ma'am — straight  ticket!  " 

She  passed  this  over  and  tried  again. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  really  understand!  " 

"  What,  ma'am? " 

"  I  guess  you  really  are  a  stranger,  after 
all." 

"I  may  be  a  stranger  now,  ma'am,  but  I  ain't 
aimin'  to  stay  one.  I  like  this  county.  The 
climate's  shore  amazin',  an'  the  citizens  ain't  mud- 
turtles  so's  yuh  could  notice  it.  I  like  life,  I  do, 
an'  I  guess  this  here  is  it !  " 

"  It  may  not  be  as  healthy  as  you  think," 
hazarded  the  girl,  a  dazzling  smile  taking  the 
edge  off  the  sinister  meaning  of  her  words. 

"  Not  healthy?  Well,  I  always  carry  plenty 
o'  medicine.  Habit  I  got." 

Tenderly,  almost  lovingly,  his  brown  fingers 
caressed  his  shell-filled  belts.  The  girl  smiled 
anew,  her  amber  eyes  sparkling. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  like  you! 
I  wish " 

She  abruptly  stopped  speaking,  her  expression 
turning  somber  on  the  instant.  He  waited. 

'  Tell  me  what  yore  wish  is,"  he  urged  after  an 
interval,  "  an'  I'll  get  it  for  yuh." 

"Thanks!"  she  countered  dryly.  "I'll  let 
you  know  if  the  wish  becomes  too  overpowering. 
In  the  meantime,  if  you  ride  down  this  left-hand 
fork,  you'll  come  to  the  Plain  Edge  and  Virgin 


12       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

City  trail.  North  for  Plain  Edge,  south  for 
Virgin  City.  For  your  well-meant  efforts  in  my 
interest  I  thank  you.  Good-bye!  " 

She  leaned  across,  holding  out  her  hand.  He 
took  it  gently. 

"  Ma'am,"  he  answered,  releasing  her  fingers, 
"  yuh'll  see  me  again — soon." 

"  If  you  have  a  glimmer  of  sense  I  won't! " 
was  her  somewhat  inelegant  retort. 

He  raised  a  questioning  eyebrow,  the  cheerful 
grin  illumining  his  sunburnt  face.  Slowly  he 
dragged  off  his  hat.  He  was  in  no  hurry  to  be 
gone. 

At  this  juncture  there  was  a  sudden  scurry  of 
hoofs,  and  out  of  the  right-hand  fork  of  the  draw 
swept  five  bunched  horsemen.  The  girl  jerked 
her  pony  round  to  face  the  newcomers.  The 
young  man  put  on  his  hat.  When  the  riders 
arrived,  he  was  rolling  a  cigarette  one-handed. 
He  lit  the  white  roll  and  puffed  luxuriously,  star- 
ing at  the  line  of  hostile  faces  out  of  speculative 
eyes. 

He  did  not  appear  in  the  least  daunted  by  the 
sinister  array.  He  folded  his  hands  on  his 
saddle-horn  and  continued  to  smoke  and  stare. 
He  believed  in  his  heart  that  he  had  never  seen  a 
worse-appearing  set  of  characters  north  of  old 
Mexico.  They  looked  like  murderers.  They 
might  be  almost  anything. 

"  Who  are  yuh,  stranger? "  demanded  the 
tallest  and  oldest  of  the  five,  a  man  with  the  face 
of  a  fallen  angel. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        13 

"Me?"  smiled  the  young  man.  "I'm  a 
traveler — a  towerist.  I  was  born  about  twenty- 
eight  years  ago,  on  a  mornin'  in  May,  when  the 
hills  were  white  with  snow,  in  a  yaller  house  with 
green  shutters — period.  There  was  a  red  barn 
back  of  it,  where  we  kept  the  cows — period. 
This  here  little  dun  boss  reminds  me  o'  the  house. 
That's  why  I  bought  him.  Anythin'  else  yuh'd 
like  to  know?  Just  ask.  I  ain't  proud.  I'll 
oblige  'most  anybody." 

The  fallen  angel  opened  his  mouth  to  speak, 
his  right  hand  dropping  swiftly.  The  young 
man  on  the  dun  made  no  appreciable  movement; 
yet,  before  his  own  itching  fingers  closed  on  the 
gun-butt,  the  fallen  angel  perceived  that  the 
other  man's  Colt  was  staring  him  out  of  counte- 
nance. 

"  Don't  go  draggin'  at  any  guns,"  the  young 
man  cautioned  plaintively.  "  Guns  make  me 
nervous,  guns  do.  So  you  see,  mister,  if  yore 
friends  go  for  to  ventilate  me,  I'll  just  naturally 
shake  loose  all  six  loads  right  plumb  through  yore 
liver.  That's  right — keep  yore  arms  a  cuddlin' 
yore  ears ! " 

He  paused.  Some  one  snickered.  It  was  the 
girl. 

"  Say,  Lanky,"  she  remarked  sharply,  "  since 
when  have  you  had  a  license  to  question  my 
friends?" 

The  fallen  angel  turned  his  head.  All  save 
the  young  man  gazed  at  the  young  woman. 

"  How  do  yuh  mean,  Sis? "  queried  a  slim 


14       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

youngster  with  a  broken  nose.  "  He's  a  stranger, 
this  gent." 

"  Well,  seeing  that  he  stood  off  Tom  John- 
son's gang  for  me,  and  saved  my  life  to  boot,  he 
isn't  such  a  total  stranger.  I'm  calling  him  my 
friend  anyway." 

Their  eyes  swung  wonderingly  from  the  girl 
to  the  man  with  the  ready  Colt.  The  girl  ex- 
plained more  fully.  Lanky's  Lucifer-like  fea- 
tures positively  beamed. 

"  Stranger,"  he  said,  "  yo're  all  right!  I  don't 
care  none  who  yuh  are — yo're  all  right.  I'd  ad- 
mire to  shake,  if " 

He  gazed  meaningly  at  the  muzzle  of  the  six- 
shooter. 

"  That's  all  right,"  responded  the  young  man, 
bolstering  his  gun  and  extending  his  hand.  "  No 
hard  feelin's  on  my  part." 

"  See  yuh  again,  stranger,"  vouchsafed  Luci- 
fer. "  Just  now  we  got  pressin'  business  some- 
'eres  else.  Go  home  with  Sis  an'  rest  yore  hat. 
Glad  to  have  ye.  So-long!  " 

The  five  evil-looking  citizens  raced  away  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  girl  and  the  young  man 
had  come. 

"It  isn't  really  necessary,  their  going,"  she 
said.  "Dad'll  get  away  all  right;  but  that's 
Lanky  and  the  boys  all  over.  They  want  to 
double-cinch  everything.  Well,  let's  be  go- 
ing!" 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  bright  smile.  He 
pointed  up  the  left-hand  fork. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        15 

"  I  thought  yuh  showed  me  the  way  to  the 
Plain  Edge  trail,"  he  said. 

"  That  was  then. ,  Now's  now.  .  Better  come, 
stranger !  Our  cook's  a  whizzer.  But,  of  course, 
if  you  don't  care  to  accept  Lanky's  invitation, 
why " 

She  shrugged  expressive  shoulders,  her  amber 
eyes  sparkling  at  him. 

"  I'd  a  heap  rather  it  was  yore  invitation,"  he 
drawled  hopefully. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Stranger,  preserver  of  my 
father's  charming  daughter,  and  all  the  rest  of  it, 
you  are  hereby  invited  to  visit  the  family  man- 
sion. How's  that? " 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  two  reached  the  ranch-house  in  all  the 
splendor  of  the  sunset  glow.  The  number  of 
buildings  betokened  a  large  ranch.  Besides  the 
ranch-house  there  were  two  bunk-houses,  a  fort- 
like,  sod-walled  storehouse,  and  a  blacksmith- 
shop.  In  the  rear  were  three  high-fenced  corrals. 

Circling  the  buildings,  the  two  approached  the 
nearest  and  smallest  of  the  corrals.  On  the  top 
bar  of  the  gate  a  man  sat,  his  shirt  showing  white 
in  the  fading  light.  Between  his  teeth  he  was 
humming  "  Jack  of  Diamonds." 

"  Stranger,"  said  the  girl  suddenly,  leaning 
ever  so  slightly  toward  the  young  man,  "  what 
may  I  call  you?  " 

"  Gilmore,  ma'am — Dal  Gilmore." 

The  man  on  the  gate  jumped  to  the  ground 
and  came  forward  to  meet  the  pair  on  horseback. 
The  girl  slid  from  the  saddle  and  ^vaved  a  hand 
toward  the  dismounting  Gilmore. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Gilmore,  Tom,"  she  announced. 
"  He's  a  friend  of  mine.  Mr.  Gilmore,  my 
brother,  Mr.  Stuart." 

The  two  young  men  shook  hands.  Even  in 
the  half  light  Gilmore  could  see  that  Tom  Stuart 
greatly  resembled  his  sister,  and  seemed  to  be  of 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       17 

about  the  same  age.  He  wondered  if  they  were 
twins.  Stuart  was  understood  to  say  that  he  was 
glad  to  meet  his  sister's  friend  ;^fter  which  he 
stood  back  and  narrowly  observed  the  friend  as 
he  stripped  saddle  and  bridle  and  turned  the  dun 
into  the  corral. 

Gilmore,  from  beneath  a  lowered  hat-brim, 
perceived  that  Mr.  Stuart,  while  in  the  act  of 
lighting  a  cigarette,  contrived  to  illumine  the 
Diamond  A  brand  on  the  dun's  hip. 

"  Couldn't  wait  for  his  sister  to  tell  him,"  re- 
flected Gilmore  contemptuously. 

He  followed  Miss  Stuart  to  the  ranch-house, 
Tom  Stuart  walking  in  heavy  silence  at  her  side. 
At  the  door  Stuart,  leaning  forward,  touched  his 
sister's  wrist. 

"  Jack  Shaw's  here,"  he  said. 

Miss  Stuart  paused  with  her  hand  on  the  latch. 

"  Then  you  take  Jack  Shaw  and  yourself,  and 
anybody  else  that's  about,"  ordered  she,  "  and  go 
help  dad  and  the  boys.  Tom  Johnson's  gang  is 
after  'em.  You'll  find  them  somewhere  beyond 
the  Forked  Draw." 

"  I  will,  hey? "  her  brother  almost  shouted. 
"  Then  why  didn't  yuh  tell  me  before?  Say, 
what  do  yuh  — — " 

"  Oh,  shut  up ! "  returned  Miss  Stuart  with 
sisterly  politeness,  flinging  wide  the  door.  "  Mr. 
Gilmore,  won't  you  come  in? " 

The  living-room  which  Gilmore  entered  was  a 
large  one.  At  one  end  was  a  huge,  empty  fire- 
place, at  the  other  an  open  doorway  revealed  the 


i8       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

dining  room,  where  a  solitary  man  sat  eating  at 
a  long  table.  Toward  this  doorway  hastened 
Tom  Stuart. 

The  girl  ringed  her  hat  expertly  over  one 
prong  of  a  stand  of  mule-deer  antlers  nailed  be- 
tween two  windows.  She  pushed  a  heavy  lock 
of  honey-colored  hair  out  of  her  eyes,  and  pre- 
tended to  adjust  the  wick  of  the  lamp  on  the 
table  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Behind  her 
Gilmore  waited,  his  expression  wooden,  his  quick 
eyes  busy. 

"Say,  Jack!  "  said  Tom  Stuart,  halting  in  the 
dining  room  doorway.  "  Dad  an'  the  boys  are 
havin'  a  brush  with  the  Johnson  outfit.  You 
V  me  might  as  well  go  see  about  it,  huh? " 

"  Shore,"  assented  the  lone  diner,  and  brought 
the  meal  to  a  close  by  wiping  his  hands  on  his 
chaps  and  kicking  his  chair  backward  to  the  wall. 

He  was  a  middle-sized,  pony-built  individual, 
this  Jack  Shaw.  Shorter  by  three  good  inches 
than  Dal  Gilmore,  he  nevertheless  impressed 
even  the  casual  observer  as  the  possessor  of  un- 
usual strength.  His  shoulders  were  broad,  out 
of  all  proportion  to  his  size,  and  his  arms  were  as 
long  as  an  ape's.  A  forehead  the  least  bit 
reptilian,  and  a  hawk  nose  did  not  add  grace  to 
a  face  already  burdened  with  a  thin,  cruel  mouth 
and  a  jutting,  heavy  chin.  No,  the  most  chari- 
tably inclined  could  not  have  called  Mr.  Shaw 
prepossessing. 

On  their  hurried  way  out  Tom  Stuart  intro- 
duced the  two  men.  Gilmore  thrust  out  his 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        19 

hand,  and  the  other  seized  it  in  a  clamp-like  grip, 
his  hard  gray  eyes  glinting  coldly  in  the  lamp- 
light. To  keep  his  hand  from  being  crushed  to 
limpness,  Gilmore  was  compelled  to  exert  all  his 
strength.  As  it  was,  a  gentle  perspiration 
started  at  the  edge  of  his  black  hair. 

"  Glad  to  know  yuh,"  announced  Shaw,  his 
amiable  tone  at  total  variance  with  the  light  in 
his  cold,  sardonic  eyes.  "  See  yuh  again — 
maybe." 

Gilmore  sensed  the  significance  in  the  pause 
between  the  last  two  words.  He  smiled  pleas- 
antly, his  blue  eyes  twinkling  with  amusement. 

"  Yuh  will,"  he  assured  the  other.  "  Yuh'll 
see  quite  a  lot  o'  me — maybe!  " 

Shaw's  eyes  narrowed.  Then  he  grinned 
mirthlessly,  nodded,  and  vanished  in  the  wake 
of  Tom  Stuart. 

Miss  Stuart  went  to  the  door  and  stood  leaning 
against  the  jamb  till  the  drum  of  hoof -beats 
dwindled  and  died. 

"  You  don't  care  what  you  say,"  she  observed, 
"  or  to  whom  you  say  it,  do  you?  " 

"  It  depends,  ma'am,"  drawled  Gilmore  plain- 
tively. "  How  about  the  other  fellah?  Ain't  I 
somebody?" 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are,"  she  murmured  with 
deep  meaning.  "  Just  how  much  of  a  somebody 
you  are  is  what  I'd  like  to  know.  Come! " 

When  each  had  washed  face  and  hands  in  a 
dish-pan  set  on  a  broad  bench  beside  the  kitchen 
door,  she  led  the  way  to  the  dining  room.  A 


20       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

widely-smiling  Chinese  stuck  a  cue-wrapped  bul- 
let-head through  a  doorless  aperture  in  a  side 
wall.  He  mowed  at  them  bobbingly  and  with- 
drew his  head  with  the  suddenness  of  a  snapping- 
turtle.  Miss  Stuart  pulled  out  the  chair  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  table  and  sat  down. 

"  Sit  there,"  she  said,  indicating  the  chair  on 
her  right.  "  Dinner'll  be  ready  in  a  minute." 

Lazily  she  tipped  back  on  the  two  rear  legs 
of  her  chair.  Gilmore  could  feel  her  amber  eyes 
searching  his  face.  He  did  not  return  her  gaze. 
Instead,  he  scrutinized  with  careful  interest  a 
Sioux  saddle  hanging  on  the  wall. 

"  Do  you  know  where  you  are?  "  she  demanded 
after  a  moment. 

"  Shore,  ma'am,"  he  replied  with  a  quick  smile. 
"  I'm  at  yore  ranch.  That's  enough  for  'most 
anybody." 

Her  eyes  wandered  to  a  cowskin  covering  an 
oak  chest  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  His  gaze  fol- 
lowed hers.  On  the  cowskin  the  brand  was 
plainly  visible. 

"  Ever  see  that  brand  before? "  she  asked 
without  turning  her  head. 

"  No,  don't  think  I  ever  did,"  he  admitted. 
"  It  looks  like  it  might  be  a  hash  knife  or 
soniethin'." 

"  It  is  a  hash  knife,  and  this  is  the  Hash  Knife 
ranch.  It  belongs  to  my  father,  Alec  Stuart.  I 
am  Louise  Stuart.  Now  do  you  understand?  " 

"  Shore!  I've  been  a  wonderin'  what  yore  first 
name  might  be." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       21 

"  Quit  it,  can't  you?  You're  not  a  fool.  I  can 
see  you're  not.  Now  you  listen  to  what  I  say. 
Lanky  and  the  boys  saw  you  wittame  this  after- 
noon. If  they  hadn't,  I'd  have  seen  that  you 
headed  for  the  Plain  Edge  and  Virgin  City  trail; 
but  they  saw  us  together,  and  they'll  ask  me 
questions  later.  I'll  have  to  be  able  to  answer 
those  questions  intelligently.  That's  why  I  sent 
Tom  and  Jack  Shaw  out  to  help  dad  and  the 
boys — so  that  you  could  talk  to  me  with  no  one 
to  overhear.  Sing  Fah's  deaf  and  dumb,  so  fly 
at  it!" 

He  stared  at  her  blankly. 

"  Yuh'll  have  to  explain,  ma'am,"  he  chided 
gently;  "  me  bein'  a  stranger,  an' " 

The  front  legs  of  Louise  Stuart's  chair  struck 
the  floor  with  a  crash.  She  twisted  her  body  side- 
wise  to  face  him,  her  rigid  forefinger  leveled  at 
his  chin. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  this  is  Glenn 
County?  "  she  exclaimed  heatedly.  "  Perhaps 
you  don't  know  that  there's  a  cattle  war  between 
the  Hash  Knife  and  V  Up-and-Down  on  one 
side  and  the  Lazy  D  and  Triangle  O  on  the 
other?  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  the  Lazy 
D  and  Triangle  O  are  hiring  gunmen?  Which 
being  so,  a  plain  statement  of  your  sentiments 
would  be  appreciated !  " 

'  Why  not  let  yore  brother  or  Jack  Shaw  ask 
me  questions?  "  he  parried. 

"  Because  there'd  be  a  shooting.  You  might 
kill  one  of  my  brothers  before  the  rest  of  them 


22       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

or  Jack  Shaw  killed  you.     I  don't  want  any 
shooting  here." 

"  Why  Jack  Shaw?  Wouldn't  yore  brothers 
be  enough? " 

'  They  would;  but  Jack's  a — a  devil.  He's 
naturally  suspicious,  he's  always  practising  the 
draw,  and  he's  mean  to  his  horses.  What  more 
do  you  want? " 

"  That's  enough!  A  combination  like  that  in 
a  man'll  make  him  do  anythin'.  The  sports  he's 
downed,  now — did  he  drill  'em  in  the  back  or 
just  put  wolf -poison  in  their  grub?  " 

"  You  needn't  be  sarcastic.  Jack  Shaw  has 
killed  two — both  of  'em  bad,  and  no  loss  to  the 
community.  He's  no  coward,  and  you  can  take 
it  from  me  that  he's  a  good  man  to  walk 
around." 

*  That's  good  hearin',  but  I've  always  found 
a  straight  line  is  the  shortest  distance  between 
two  points.  I  guess  Jack  Shaw'd  turn  out  a 
heap  interest  in'  fellah  to  know." 

"  Suit  yourself.   I've  warned  you.   Now " 

"  Ma'am,  excuse  me,  but  would  yuh  mind 
tellin'  me  the  rights  o'  this  fraycas  between  these 
here  four  ranches? " 

"Where  do  you  stand?"  she  persisted,  her 
voice  hardening  and  her  amber  eyes  beginning 
to  glitter  dangerously. 

"  Why,  ma'am,  how  do  I  know?  "  he  said  help- 
lessly. "  I'm  comin'  no'th  from  New  Mexico,  a 
huntin'  new  scenery  an'  a  job.  I've  found  the 
scenery  all  right,  but  no  job.  Till  I  locate  that 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        23 

job,  I  dunno  where  I  stand — I  don't,  ma'am, 
honest." 

"Answer  me!  At  first  your  evasions  didn't 
seem  to  matter  a  great  deal;  but  now  they  do, 
and  you  can  just  make  up  your  mind  that  you 
won't  leave  this  room  till  you  tell  me  what  I 
want  to  know.  Now  answer  me !  " 

"  I've  done  told  yuh,  ma'am,  over  an'  over,  I'm 
from  New  Mexico,  an'  I  want  a  job,  an'  I  dunno 
much  about  this  case.  Of  course,  even  in  New 
Mexico  we've  heard  rumors,  but  we  don't  know 
the  truth.  If  yuh  could  help  me  out,  ma'am,  by 
givin'  me  the  rights  of  the  fraycas  between  the 
four  ranches,  I  might  be  able  to  tell  yuh  what 
yuh  want  to  know." 

"That's  easy,"  she  said,  beginning  to  cut  a 
steak  which  the  dumb  Chinaman  slid  noiselessly 
in  front  of  her.  "  The  Lazy  D  claimed  one  of 
our  yearlings.  We  refused  to  surrender  the  cow, 
of  course,  and  they  began  to  rustle  our  calves. 
Matters  have  gone  from  bad  to  worse.  The  V 
Up-and-Down — that's  Jack  Shaw — sided  with 
us,  and  the  Triangle  O  chipped  in  with  them.  In 
the  last  year  there's  been  quite  a  lot  of  shooting. 
Two  of  our  boys  have  gone  over.  The  Lazy  D 
has  lost,  three,  and  the  Triangle  O  one.  Quite 
a  few  have  been  wounded  on  both  sides.  At 
present  the  county  is  pretty  evenly  divided. 
Nearly  all  the  men  in  it,  even  the  inhabitants  of 
the  towns,  have  taken  sides.  So  you  see  the  weary 
traveler  is  open  to  suspicion.  He  may  be  a  gun* 
man  or  a  deputy.  You  don't  seem  to  realize  how 


24       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

serious  it  all  is.  If  you  had  met  Lanky  and  the 
boys  alone,  you'd  undoubtedly  have  been  shot  for 
your  fresh  remarks.  A  flippant  demeanor  is  not 
a  paying  investment  in  this  region." 

'  What  is  your  definition  of  gunman? "  he 
asked  over  the  rim  of  his  coffee-cup. 

"  One  who  kills  for  hire,"  was  her  prompt 
reply. 

'  Then  by  neither  inclination  nor  habit  am  I 
a  gunman.  I've  never  killed  a  man  yet,  an'  I 
never  will  unless  I'm  shoved.  I'm  a  peaceable 
citizen  on  the  lookout  for  a  job,  like  I  told  yuh." 

His  frank  smile  and  merry  eyes  had  been  hav- 
ing their  effect.  Miss  Stuart's  misgivings,  if  not 
utterly  dispelled,  were  at  least  lulled  for  the  time 
being. 

"  As  I  understand  it,"  he  casua^y  observed, 
stirring  his  fourth  cup  of  coffee,  "  both  sides  are 
rus — well,  brandin'  each  other's  cows  free  an' 
promiscuous? " 

"  One  side  is — the  Lazy  D  and  the  Triangle 
O,"  she  retorted  coldly.  "  We  brand  our  own 
only — don't  make  any  mistake  about  that! " 

"How  about  the  V  Up-an'-Down? "  This 
with  a  quizzical  glance. 

"  The  V  Up-and-Down  is  our  ally.  Of  course, 
it's  honest." 

"  With  an  owner  who's  a  killer  an'  mean  to 
his  bosses,  it  would  be!"  She  shot  him  a  sus- 
picious glance.  He  regarded  her  innocently. 
"  Then,  as  I  see  it,"  he  continued  softly,  "  the 
Lazy  D  an'  Triangle  O  outfits  are  rustlers,  while 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       25 

the  Hash  Knife  an'  V  Up-an'-Down  are  shore 
enough  pillars  o'  society  1 " 

"  If  we're  not '  pillars,'  as  you  call  it,"  she  said 
warmly,  "  we  are  at  least  honest.  We  defend 
our  rights,  that's  all." 

He  did  not  appear  to  hear  what  she  was  say- 
ing. His  attention  was  centered  on  an  endeavor 
to  balance  a  spoon  on  the  edge  of  his  cup.  Miss 
Stuart  watched  him  with  growing  irritation.  She 
wondered  why  she  was  answering  his  questions. 
She  was  not  usually  so  complaisant.  Again,  still 
without  looking  in  her  direction,  he  spoke: 

"  Which  ranch  was  here  first — the  Lazy  D  or 
the  Hash  Knife?" 

"  The  Lazy  D.  We  threw  down  a  couple  of 
years  later." 

"  Ever  stop  to  think  how  easy  it  is  to  change  a 
Lazy  D  to  a  Hash  Knife? " 

Adroitly  his  lean,  brown  hands  pinched  the 
soft  center  from  a  slice  of  bread.  He  laid  the 
hard  crust  on  the  table.  It  made  almost  a  per- 
fect Lazy  D.  From  another  slice  of  bread  he 
fashioned  a  T.  This  he  placed  upright  on  the 
horizontal  line  of  the  D.  The  implication  was 
only  too  manifest. 

"  If  you  think "  she  burst  out  in  quick 

anger. 

"  I  ain't  thinkin',"  he  interrupted,  busy  again 
with  his  spoon-balancing.  "  I'm  just  showin' 
yuh  somethin',  that's  all." 

"  I  know  just  what  you  mean,"  she  returned, 
her  voice  trembling;  "but  I  don't  know  why  I 


26       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

sit  here  and  let  you  question  me — you,  who  may 
be  anything!  However,  we'll  decide  what  to  do 
about  it  when  the  boys  come  home." 

"  Suppose  I  don't  just  feel  like  waitin'  till  the 
boys  sift  in?" 

"  You'll  wait." 

'  Who'll  make  me?" 

"  I  will,"  was  her  tranquil  reply.  "  You  see, 
from  the  doorway  at  your  back  Sing  Fah  has 
been  covering  you  for  the  past  fifteen  minutes. 
If  you  turn  your  head,  he'll  shoot." 

At  that  instant  from  the  kitchen  came  the  thud 
of  potatoes  dropping  into  a  dish-pan.  Gilmore 
threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  quite  frankly. 
He  lowered  his  chin  to  look  into  the  twin  muzzles 
of  a  stubby  derringer. 

'  You're  not  quite  so  smart,  after  all ! "  the 
lady  snapped  viciously.  "  I've  got  the  drop!  " 

;<What'll  yuh  do  with  it?"  he  asked  tran- 
quilly, his  hands  flat  on  the  table. 

"  Shoot  you  if  you  budge.  I  don't  want  to, 
because  you  helped  me  out  there  on  the  range, 
but  I  will  if  you  don't  keep  your  hands  where 
they  are!" 

"  Well,  now,  this  is  shore  a  nice  way  to  treat 
visitors — invite  'em  to  pay  yuh  a  visit,  an'  then 
hold  'em  up !  Yuh  don't  look  like  a  road-agent, 
not  really." 

The  amber  eyes  darkened.  The  red  lips 
straightened.  The  slender  hand  that  gripped  the 
butt  of  the  derringer  held  steady  as  a  church. 
The  girl  made  no  reply  to  his  verbal  thrusts. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       27 

He  tried  again: 

"  Yuh  couldn't  shoot  me,  ma'am!  Yuh  just 
couldn't,  an'  yuh  know  it." 

"  You  make  one  quick  motion,  and  see  what 
happens ! " 

*  Well,  now,  maybe  ye  would,  maybe  ye  would. 
Can't  tell  what  a  woman'll  do,  not  nohow.     But 
say,  what's  goin'  to  happen  when  the  boys — an' 
Jack  Shaw — come  home?  " 

*  You'll  be  investigated  pretty  thoroughly — 
you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  that.    I  don't  be- 
lieve you've  given  me  a  straight  answer  yet!  " 

"Why,  ma'am,  as  if  I'd  lie  to  yuh!"  he 
drawled,  as  if  with  injured  feelings.  *  What  I 
have  told  yuh  was  the  truth — what  there  was 
of  it." 

"Exactly!"  she  flashed  triumphantly.  "I 
knew  you  were  keeping  something  back! " 

"  Only  my  star,  ma'am." 

"  Your  star!  "  she  faltered. 

"  Shore!    I'm  a  deputy  sheriff." 

*  You  lied  to  me !    You  said  you  weren't  a 
deputy!" 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  didn't.  You  said  I  wasn't. 
You  throwed  my  vest  open;  didn't  see  my  star, 
'cause  it  was  pinned  inside  my  shirt,  an'  yuh  said 
I  wasn't  a  deputy.  I  didn't  say  nothin'.  I  just 
laughed.  It's  all  like  I  said.  I'm  a  stranger 
here.  I'm  from  New  Mexico.  I'm  lookin'  for  a 
job,  an'  I  don't  expect  to  find  it  till  I  report  to 
the  sheriff  in  Plain  Edge.  I  aim  to  find  the  ins 
an'  outs  o'  this  Glenn  County  rustlin',  ma'am,  an' 


28       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

yore  invite  was  too  good  to  pass  up.  I  figured 
yuh  might  likely  tell  me  somethin'." 

*  You  came  to  spy ! "  The  scorn  in  her  tone 
was  terrific. 

"  No,  ma'am ;  not  the  way  yuh  mean,"  he  de- 
nied gently.  '  There's  two  sides  to  every  fraycas, 
an'  I  want  to  know  both  sides  of  this  deal  before  I 
start.  That's  why  I  come  here  with  yuh.  I 
wanted  yuh  to  tell  me.  Well,  yuh  did,  an'  ac- 
cordin'  to  yuh  it's  all  the  Lazy  D's  fault.  I'll 
hear  what  they  have  to  say,  an'  then,  between 
the  two  of  yuh,  I  ought  to  know  somethin'  about 
the  rights  of  the  matter — see?  " 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  girl  stared  at  him  in  blank  amazement. 
She  could  hardly  credit  her  ears.  That  a  deputy 
sheriff  should  calmly  confess  his  identity  and 
his  purpose  was  almost  unbelievable. 

'  We'll  see  what  the  boys  have  to  say,"  she  ob- 
served, following  a  tense  silence. 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  do  that,"  coolly  advised  Gil- 
more.  "  I  just  wouldn't,  if  I  were  yuh.  Yuh'll 
be  obstructin'  law  an'  order,  if  yuh  do." 

'  Well,  of  all  the  nervy  individuals,  you  do  put 
the  hat  on  the  climax !  You  admit  you're  a  dep- 
uty, and  then  suggest  that  I  should  allow  you  to 
depart  in  peace.  Not  to-day!  No,  Mr.  Dal 
Gilmore — if  that  really  is  your  name,  which  I 
doubt — here  you  stay  till  the  family  passes  on 
your  case." 

"  An'  Jack  Shaw.    Don't  forget  him !  " 

'  You'll  soon  wish  you'd  never  heard  of  Jack. 
He's  the  most  radical  one  of  the  lot." 

"  I  guess  likely;  but  what  I  can't  see  is  why, 
if  yo're  all  so  honest  an'  straight  as  a  string  an' 
things  like  that,  yo're  not  willin'  to  let  me  drift 
along  'bout  my  business.  If  there's  nothin' 
crooked  goin'  on,  what  yuh  afraid  of?  Why  do 


30       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

yuh  jump  sideways  at  deputies?  I'm  askin'  yuh, 
ma'am,  why? " 

"  I  shan't  bandy  words  with  you — spy!"  she 
retorted  furiously. 

"  Good  reason  why! "  he  replied  equably. 

"  We  are  not  rustlers ! " 

"  I  didn't  say  yuh  was.  Why,  ma'am,  I 
wouldn't  think  of  sayin'  such  a  thing.  Yuh  told 
me  yoreself  yuh  was  honest.  I'd  believe  yuh 
quicker'n  I  would  myself.  May  I  smoke, 
ma'am? " 

"  No — keep  your  hands  still !  " 

"  I  am,  I  am.  They  ain't  budged  a  hair  since 
yuh  first  drawed  that  derringer  on  me;  but  I'd 
like  one  pill — just  one  small  pill,  ma'am,  an'  I 
won't  bother  yuh  no  more." 

"  You  won't  bother  me.  Don't  worry  about 
that!" 

"  I'm  not.  No  need.  I  know  just  what's  goin' 
to  happen.  But  say,  why  don't  yuh  call  in  yore 
deef-an'-dumb  wonder  an'  hog-tie  me?  It's  just 
a  suggestion.  Seein'  yuh  holdin'  up  that  baby 
cannon  so  long  made  me  think  yore  arm  must  be 
tired." 

His  manner  and  expression,  even  his  tone,  were 
most  solicitous;  but  Miss  Stuart  was  not  im- 
pressed. She  did  not  deign  to  reply.  Above  the 
derringer's  twin  barrels  her  amber  eyes  continued 
to  stare  coldly  into  his. 

"  Kind  of  unhandy  havin'  help  that  can't  hear," 
he  pursued  pleasantly.  "  Ever  try  riggin'  a 
string  to  his  big  toe?  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        31 

Hopefully  he  waited  for  the  smile.  No  smile  1 
Undaunted,  he  tried  again: 

"  Do  yuh  know,  the  way  yuh  wear  yore  hair 
is  mighty  pretty — so  fluffy  like,  an'  soft  round 
yore  ears!  I  dunno  when  I've  seen  hair  pleased 
me  better.  Seen  a  lot,  too,  if  I  am  young  still. 
Would  yuh  mind  lettin'  me " 

"  Shut  up !  "  she  interrupted  sharply.  "  I've 
heard  enough  from  you." 

"  Can't  I  talk? "  he  pleaded. 

"No,  you  can't!" 

"  Why,  say,  when  a  road-agent  holds  up  a 
stage,  he  lets  the  driver  cuss  all  he  likes,  but 
you » 

"Shut  up!" 

"Oh,  all  right!  Certainly,  ma'am;  anything 
to  oblige.  If  yuh  don't  mind,  can  I  breathe  now 
an'  then?  I  ain't  cashed  yet,  an'  it's  really  nec- 
essary— some." 

There  followed  a  long  silence,  unbroken  save 
for  the  ticking  of  an  alarm-clock  in  the  living- 
room.  All  was  silent  in  the  kitchen.  Gilmore 
wondered  whether  the  cook  was  watching  him 
from  the  doorway.  Probably  Sing  Fah  was 
doing  so,  for  the  Chinese  are  a  quick-witted  race. 

His  left  leg  was  beginning  to  numb.  He  had 
been  working  it  quite  steadily  for  the  past  ten 
minutes. 

Suddenly  Miss  Stuart  felt  a  light  touch  on  her 
left  arm.  Her  nerves  being  under  somewhat  of 
a  strain,  she  involuntarily  started  and  glanced 
down.  In  that  unguarded  instant  Gilmore  threw 


32       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

himself  half-way  across  the  table,  and  seized  the 
gun  with  one  hand  and  her  wrist  with  the  other. 

Bang!  The  little  gun  flashed  and  roared.  The 
ticking  in  the  next  room  ceased  instantly,  and 
there  was  a  tiny  clatter  of  something  falling  off 
a  table. 

"Kind  of  handy  havin'  a  deaf  cook,  after 
all  1 "  panted  Gilmore,  twisting  the  derringer 
from  her  grip. 

With  her  clenched  fist  she  struck  him  square 
on  the  mouth.  If  she  had  hoped  to  knock  him 
down,  the  hope  failed.  Gilmore  did  not  even 
flinch.  He  yanked  her  forward,  seized  her  by  the 
belt,  and  pulled  her  across  the  table,  to  a  brave 
accompaniment  of  crashing  china  as  the  table 
tilted. 

When  he  had  her  flat  on  the  table,  face  down, 
he  held  her  there,  using  for  the  purpose  no  more 
strength  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  Hers 
was  a  most  undignified  position,  and  she  knew  it. 
She  wriggled  and  kicked  and  struggled.  She 
yelled  continuously  for  help.  Oh,  she  was  in  a 
most  wonderful  rage! 

Gilmore  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  kitchen 
doorway.  The  kitchen  was  dark.  It  appeared 
to  be  deserted.  He  hoped  it  was. 

Forcing  the  girl's  hands  behind  her  back,  he 
pinioned  her  wrists  one-handed.  Then  he  reached 
up  to  the  home-made  hanger  above  the  center  of 
the  table,  and  took  down  the  lamp.  When  he  had 
blown  it  out,  he  carefully  set  it  back,  and  stooped 
to  speak  to  Miss  Stuart.  She  was  making  so 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       33 

much  noise  herself  that  he  was  forced  almost  to 
bellow  in  her  ear  before  she  would  grant  him  any 
attention.  When  she  lay  half-sobbing,  half- 
panting,  but  otherwise  silent,  he  spoke  calmly. 

"  I  don't  want  to  hog-tie  yuh,  ma'am — I  sure 
don't;  but  unless  yuh  give  me  yore  word  not  to 
leave  this  room  for  half  an  hour  after  I've  gone, 
why,  I'll  have  to.  Just  yore  word  is  all  I  want." 

"  I  won't!  I  won't!  I'll— I'll  see  you  killed 
for  this!  I  will!  I  will,  if  it  takes  a  hundred 
years ! " 

"  Yuh  wouldn't  care  none  about  livin'  so 
long,  ma'am,  an'  I  dunno  as  I  would,  either.  But 
help  yoreself.  The  bridle's  off  the  hoss  to  you. 
Won't  yuh  look  nice  when  the  family  comes  home 
an'  finds  yuh  hog-tied  all  same  yearlin'?  It'll  be 
kind  of  a  joke  on  you,  won't  it? " 

This  aspect  of  the  matter  had  not  struck  her 
till  he  mentioned  it.  It  carried  no  appeal. 

"Yo're  thinkin'  Sing  Fah'll  find  yuh,  ain't 
yuh? "  he  continued.  "  Maybe  he  will,  but  it's  a 
heap  doubtful.  Anyway,  when  the  family  sifts 
in,  yuh  can  tell  'em  how  yuh  held  me  up  for  half 
an  hour,  till  I  could  move  a  chair  close  enough 
with  my  left  foot  to  nudge  yuh  on  the  arm  an' 
upset  yore  equilibrium,  like  I  heard  a  juggler 
fellah  say  once  down  in  Santone.  Yuh  can  tell 
'em  that.  It'll  make  'em  laugh,  maybe.  Yuh 
got  to  give  the  reason  for  bein'  tied  up — yuh 
know  that.  On  the  other  hand,  ma'am,  yore 
word  is  plenty  good  with  me.  What  do  yuh 
say?" 


34       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

She  said  nothing.  Instead,  she  exerted  all  her 
strength  to  free  herself.  Her  toes  beat  a  frenzied 
tattoo  on  the  table.  She  whacked  her  head  against 
it,  and  bumped  her  nose  till  the  pain  made  her 
weep.  Now,  and  not  till  now,  did  his  grasp  relax 
the  merest  trifle. 

"  I'm  sorry,  ma'am/'  he  apologized;  "  but  yuh 
see  it's  no  manner  of  use.  Yuh'll  hurt  yoreself  if 
yuh  keep  a  whangin'  yore  head  sideways  thata- 
way.  Be  reasonable,  can't  yuh?  " 

Nothing  in  the  world  so  incenses  a  woman  as 
the  request  to  "  be  reasonable."  Miss  Stuart,  al- 
ready in  a  fine  rage,  now  furnished  a  most  ecstatic 
display  of  fury. 

Gilmore  laughed  aloud  at  her  struggles — 
which  did  not  tend  to  soothe  the  girl.  In  her  rage 
she  contrived  to  twist  her  head  to  one  side,  and 
for  one  instant  to  jerk  her  wrists  upward.  His 
left  sleeve  brushed  her  cheek.  Her  chin  shot  for- 
ward, and  she  clamped  her  jaws  in  a  bulldog  grip 
on  the  flesh  of  his  forearm. 

The  pain  was  exquisite,  but  Gilmore  did  not 
flinch.  Slowly,  gently,  he  forced  a  rigid  thumb 
and  forefinger  into  her  cheeks.  This  method  is 
sometimes  found  efficacious  in  bitting  a  horse 
which  sets  its  teeth.  It  worked  with  Miss  Stuart. 
She  held  on  as  long  as  she  could,  but  no  human 
being  could  resist  the  pressure  of  those  inexorable 
fingers.  Her  jaws  separated  reluctantly,  and 
Gilmore  moved  his  arm  out  of  tooth-reach. 

The  girl's  body  relaxed,  and  she  began  to  cry 
stormily.  Gilmore  felt  like  turning  her  over  on 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       35 

his  knees  and  giving  her  a  thorough  spanking. 
The  little  vixen  1 

"  Honest,  ma'am,"  he  observed  whimsically, 
"  yuh've  shore  got  the  worst  manners  I  ever  seen. 
Yuh  hadn't  ought  to  bite  folks.  Yuh'd  ought  to 
know  better,  a  big  girl  like  you.  It  all  comes 
from  wearin'  pants,  I'll  bet.  Yore  parents 
have  shore  neglected  yore  education.  Likely 
I'll  get  the  spinal  maginnis,  or  somethin'.  About 
that  promise — do  yuh  gimme  yore  word  to  set 
still  an'  be  a  good  child  till  I'm  a  half-hour  on 
my  way,  or  do  I  hog-tie  yuh  an'  stuff  a  towel 
down  yore  neck?  I'd  have  to  gag  yuh,"  he 
added. 

Save  a  gusty  sob,  she  made  no  sound.  He 
wished  that  she  would  make  up  her  mind.  Wait- 
ing was  fraught  with  assorted  dangers.  In  spite 
of  his  assertion  to  the  contrary,  he  knew  perfectly 
well  that  Sing  Fah  might  come  in  from  the 
kitchen;  then,  too,  "  dad  "  and  the  boys  were  due 
at  any  moment. 

"Don't  hurry  any  about  decidin',"  hazarded 
the  patient  Gilmore.  "  I've  got  all  night,  of 


course." 


To  his  astonishment,  for  he  had  expected  her 
to  essay  one  more  struggle,  she  replied  in  a  low 
voice,  her  tone  under  perfect  control: 

"  I  give  you  my  word." 

"  Yuh'll  gimme  a  half -hour's  start?  Do  yuh 
understand? " 

"  Certainly.  I  don't  quibble.  When  I  give 
my  word,  I  give  it." 


36       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Excuse  me,  ma'am,  of  course.    I  under " 

"  If  you  will  release  me,"  she  remarked  icily, 
"  I  shall  be  greatly  indebted  to  you/' 

"  Shore,  shore !  I'd  clean  forgot  I  was  holdin' 
vuh." 

He  tried  to  help  her  to  her  feet,  but  she  struck 
down  his  hands  and  swung  to  the  floor  unaided. 

His  eyes  had  grown  somewhat  accustomed  to 
the  darkness  by  now.  He  could  dimly  see  the 
girl  where  she  stood  at  the  end  of  the  table,  her 
clenched  fists  resting  on  the  wood.  Stooping,  he 
felt  about  on  the  floor  for  his  hat,  found  it,  and 
straightened  quickly.  He  turned  to  go,  but 
wheeled  back  as  Miss  Stuart  spoke. 

"  I've  given  you  my  word,"  she  said  in  hard, 
level  tones.  "  For  thirty  minutes  you're  free  as 
a  bird.  After  that,  Mr.  Man,  keep  your  gun 
loose !  You'll  pay  for  what  you've  done  to-night. 
Why,  you  poor  fool  you,  coming  up  here  to 
Glenn  County  expecting  to  run  things !  You— 
you — deputy  sheriff!  You  won't  live  a  week !  " 

"  That's  what  they  told  me  down  south,"  he 
observed  tranquilly.  "  But  I've  learned  one 
thing,  ma'am,  in  my  travels  round  this  vale  of 
tears,  an'  that's  never  to  believe  all  yuh  hear.  I 
expect  I'll  be  a  heap  alive  at  the  end  o'  the  week. 
Don't  make  any  mistake  about  that!  I'll  be 
seein'  yuh  again,  too.  Don't  forget  that! " 

"  Go,  will  you? "  Her  outflung  arm  pointed 
to  the  door. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  unheeding,  "  I'll  be 
seein'  yuh  again.  Yuh  an'  me  are  goin'  to  be 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       37 

friends — good  friends.  I  like  you,  an'  yo're  a 
goin'  to  like  me — not  a  little  bit,  but  a  whole  lot. 
Before  we  get  through,  yo're  a  goin'  to  like  me 
feetter'n  anybody  yuh  ever  come  across.  That's 
the  way  I  like  yuh  now.  Instanter,  when  I  saw 
yore  eyes  an'  hair,  I  knowed.  Couldn't  help 
myself.  It  come  that  quick.  Curious,  ain't  it?  " 

"  Very,"  she  agreed  calmly.  "  It  adds  a  trifle 
to  the  score." 

"  I  s'pose  it  does,  but  it  don't  matter  any. 
Yo're  a  goin'  to  forget  all  about  scores — you'll 
see!" 

So,  blithely,  he  made  his  way  through  the 
darkness  of  the  house  to  the  outer  air.  Once  be- 
yond the  door,  however,  his  careless  demeanor 
vanished.  He  scooped  up  bridle  and  saddle  and 
ran  toward  the  corral  as  swiftly  as  his  high  heels 
would  allow.  Opening  the  gate,  he  slipped  in 
with  his  bridle  and  cast  about  for  the  dun. 

Despite  the  bright  starlight,  picking  out  the 
dun  in  that  crowded  corral  was  no  easy  matter. 
The  yellow  horse  saw  his  master  first,  and  he 
knew  well  enough  what  was  wanted  of  him. 
Work  and  plenty  of  it,  on  top  of  what  he  had 
done  that  day,  was  not  a  pleasant  prospect.  He 
shouldered  in  between  two  mares,  and  the  three 
fled  round  the  corral  together. 

That  action  was  the  dun's  undoing.  Gilmore 
placed  two  fingers  in  his  mouth  and  whistled 
piercingly.  The  dun  stiffened  his  legs  and  slid  to 
a  halt.  His  master  approached  and  bridled  him 
quickly. 


38       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

*  Yuh  old  son  of  a  dog-robber!  "  he  said  affec- 
tionately, leading  the  horse  out.  "  All  serene 
now,  ain't  yuh?  Couldn't  make  yuh  run  away 
for  shucks,  huh?  Yuh  good-for-nothin'  hollow 
accordeen,  ropes  don't  mean  a  whole  lot  to  yuh, 
do  they  now?  But  a  whistle — yuh  don't  ever  for- 
get what  that  means,  do  yuh?  " 

The  dun  saddled,  Gilmore  knelt  and  put  his 
ear  to  the  ground.  He  heard  nothing,  and 
mounted  quickly.  Spurring  his  horse,  he  dashed 
past  the  house,  heading  southeast,  in  which  direc- 
tion lay  Virgin  City.  This  town  was  not  his  ulti- 
mate destination,  for  Plain  Edge,  the  county 
seat,  was  where  the  sheriff  lived. 

"  But,"  he  reasoned,  "  they  know  I'm  a  deputy, 
or  they  will  know  when  she  tells  'em.  I  can't 
make  it  ahead  of  'em  till  the  hoss  is  rested  good. 
They'll  know  my  first  job  is  to  see  the  sheriff. 
Knowin'  this,  they'll  think  my  driftin'  toward 
Virgin  City  is  a  blind,  an'  instead  o'  sailin'  after, 
they'll  drag  it  up  Plain  Edge  way,  expectin'  I'll 
swing  no'th  an'  make  it  easy  for  'em.  I  guess, 
though,  I'd  better  send  for  Jimmy.  This  deal 
don't  look,  first  off,  like  a  one-man  job.  What's 
yore  idea,  Frosty  fellah?  " 

"  Frosty  fellah  "  flattened  his  left  ear  and  con- 
tinued to  lope  steadily.  A  half-hour  later  Gil- 
more  slowed  the  little  horse  to  a  walk,  and  he 
kept  at  this  gait  all  night. 

He  would  have  hugely  enjoyed  making  a  run 
of  it  to  Plain  Edge.  Had  Frosty  been  fresh,  he 
would  have  risked  it,  for  he  doubted  whether 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       39 

there  was  anywhere  within  five  hundred  miles  an- 
other horse  the  equal  of  the  dun  in  bottom  and 
speed.  But  when  there  is  a  long  trail  to  be  cov- 
ered, no  weary  pony,  however  excellent,  can  com- 
pete with  fresh  animals.  Gilmore  consoled  him- 
self with  the  thought  that  in  Virgin  City  he 
might  pick  up  much  useful  information  regard- 
ing the  cattle  war.  In  any  case,  the  place  was  two 
days'  travel  nearer  the  desired  Jimmy  than  was 
Plain  Edge. 

"  Four  by  stage — two — three  on  the  train," 
mused  the  young  man,  checking  off  the  days  on 
his  fingers.  "  It  ought  to  get  there  in  a  week.  In 
two  weeks  he'd  ought  to  be  here.  Here,  you 
Frosty  hoss,  stop  yore  daisy-cuttin' !  Yo're  tired, 
but  yo're  not  so  all  in  as  that." 

When  the  sun  began  to  lift  above  the  rim  of 
the  world,  Gilmore  stopped  on  the  crest  of  a 
ridge  and  looked  over  the  way  he  had  come. 
Swell,  ridge,  and  draw;  draw,  ridge,  and  swell— 
the  earth's  surface  was  visible  for  miles  and 
miles  in  the  clear  air  of  the  high  country;  but, 
save  cattle  here  and  there,  Gilmore  saw  no  living 
thing. 

"  Razzle-dazzled  5em!"  he  observed  joyfully, 
and  urged  Frosty  onward. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ONE  broad,  wavering  street  fenced  by  eight 
saloons,  two  stores,  a  hotel,  three  dance-halls,  an 
express-office,  a  stage  station,  and  some  fifty 
dwellings — that  was  Virgin  City.  Surrounded 
by  a  picket-line  of  empty  tin  cans,  the  town  lay 
blistering  under  the  summer  sun  when  Gilmore's 
tired  pony  dispiritedly  shuffled  in  between  two 
false  fronts  and  stopped  in  front  of  the  hotel 
corral. 

Under  the  wooden  awning  of  Sam  Kyle's  Ace 
Saloon,  the  building  across  the  street,  three  citi- 
zens sat  in  tip-tilted  chairs  and  watched  Gilmore 
closely.  A  young  woman  stood  in  the  saloon 
doorway.  Her  hands  were  on  her  hips,  her  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  stranger.  Black-eyed,  black- 
haired,  lithe-bodied,  she  was  strikingly  handsome 
in  a  bold  way. 

She  was  the  proprietor's  wife,  and  newcomers 
always  interested  her.  They  might  spend  money 
freely,  they  might  be  interesting  to  talk  to,  or 
they  might  endeavor  to  run  the  town.  In  any 
event,  a  newcomer  signified  a  certain  degree  of 
excitement.  She  wondered  which  degree  this 
particular  stranger  would  furnish. 

The  three  citizens  sitting  under  the  awning 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       41 

were  also  wondering.  They  wondered  what  his 
politics  were,  and  whether  he  had  come  to  town  to 
make  trouble.  They  noted  that  he*  wore  but  one 
six-shooter,  and  decided  that  he  was  not  a  pro- 
fessional gunman.  Still 

They  shifted  their  quids  and  pondered.  The 
three  were  Triangle  O  punchers,  and  as  such  it 
was  incumbent  upon  them  to  be  wary;  for  Virgin 
City  was  frequently  visited  by  the  riders  of  the 
Hash  Knife 'and  the  V  Up-and-Down. 

"Diamon'  A  brand,"  muttered  one  of  the 
punchers. 

"  Uhuh! "  agreed  the  second. 

"  Noo  Mexico,"  vouchsafed  the  third.  "  Over 
near  the  Rio  Grande.  Seen  it  often  when  I  was 
workin'  for  the  Seven  Lazy  Seven." 

They  relapsed  into  sleepy  silence;  yet  had  any 
person  made  a  hostile  move  in  their  direction, 
they  could  have  gone  into  instantaneous  ac- 
tion. 

Gilmore,  whistling  the  joyous  tune  of  "  Bonny 
Dundee,"  unsaddled  his  horse,  turned  it  into  the 
corral,  and  entered  the  hotel,  carrying  his  saddle. 
He  had  seen  the  three  under  the  saloon  awning, 
and  was  fully  aware  that  they  had  noted  every 
salient  point  about  himself  and  his  horse.  Be- 
yond a  swift  glance,  he  paid  no  attention  to  the 
good-looking  girl  who  stood  in  the  saloon  door- 
way. 

He  dumped  saddle  and  bridle  in  a  corner  of  the 
barroom  and  walked  to  the  bar.  Two  men,  con- 
versing in  low  tones  at  the  end  of  the  bar,  ceased 


42        The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

talking  at  his  entrance,  turned,  and  stared  as  un- 
obtrusively as  possible. 

*  Whisky,"  he  said  shortly. 

"Cert!"  replied  the  bartender,  and  slammed 
a  bottle  and  glass  on  the  bar. 

"Water,"  remarked  Gilmore,  pouring  out  a 
meagre  finger  of  the  Old  Jordan. 

The  bartender  opened  his  mouth  to  speak;  but 
he  found  it  impossible  to  utter  what  was  on  his 
tongue's  tip,  for  Gilmore's  bright  blue  eyes  were 
fixed  on  his,  and  the  stranger's  smile  was  pecul- 
iarly unpleasant. 

"  Water,  I  said,"  drawled  Gilmore.  "  Are  yuh 
workin'  behind  that  bar,  or  are  yuh  givin'  imita- 
tions of  a  ossified  mummy?  " 

The  two  men  at  the  end  of  the  bar  exchanged 
meaning  glances.  The  bartender  gulped,  gasped, 
coughed  once,  and  somehow  poured  a  glass  of 
water.  His  expression  was  malevolent  as  he 
swept  Gilmore's  two  bits  into  the  cash-drawer. 

Gilmore  looked  about  him.  On  a  side  wall 
hung  a  gaudy  calendar,  setting  forth,  besides  the 
dates,  the  alleged  fact  that  some  one's  baking- 
powder  was  the  only  baking-powder  in  the  world. 
Gilmore  walked  across  to  the  calendar,  tore  off 
the  day's  sheet,  and  returned  to  the  bar.  Spread- 
ing the  sheet  face  down  beside  his  glass,  he  un- 
earthed a  stubby  pencil  from  the  recesses  of  an 
inner  vest-pocket,  and  proceeded  to  write  his 
letter  to  Jimmy.  When  he  had  signed  his  name, 
he  looked  across  at  the  bartender. 

"  Got  an  envelope?  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       43 

"  Naw,"  was  the  surly  response. 

"  Think  again,  fellah,"  came  the  swift  advice. 
"  Scratch  yore  head,  if  yuh  got"  to,  and  think 
again." 

"  Ain't  got  no  envelopes." 

"  One'll  do." 

The  bartender  whirled  toward  Gilmore.  He 
had  conjured  up  a  working  head  of  courage. 
Perhaps  the  stranger  was  not  to  be  feared,  after 
all. 

"  I  done  told  you "  he  began  viciously, 

and  choked. 

By  an  extremely  simple  twist  of  his  right 
wrist,  Gilmore  had  flicked  the  full  glass  of  whisky 
and  water  into  the  bartender's  eyes.  The  man 
yelped  and  hopped  up  and  down  with  pain  and 
rage. 

"  Lucky  there's  water  mixed  up  with  that  var- 
nish, or  yuh'd  shore  be  blinded,"  soothed  Gil- 
more.  "  I  wouldn't  go  for  to  wipe  out  niy  eyes 
with  that  salt-sack.  Try  yore  shirt." 

The  insulted  and  blinded  bartender,  smarting 
and  blowing,  found  the  water-bucket  and  relief. 

"  About  that  envelope,"  Gilmore  observed 
calmly,  when  the  victim  was  partly  himself  again. 

Meekly,  the  thoroughly  chastened  bartender 
fished  an  envelope  from  the  cash-drawer  and  slid 
it  across  the  bar.  Gilmore  tossed  him  a  dime, 
folded  and  sealed  the  letter,  and  departed  in 
search  of  the  stage  station. 

His  letter  in  care  of  the  station-agent,  he 
strolled  the  length  of  Main  Street,  and  did  not 


44       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

return  to  the  hotel  till  the  clatter  of  a  beaten  dish- 
pan  announced  the  serving  of  the  midday  meal. 

Dinner  over,  Gilmore  entered  the  barroom,  sat 
down  in  the  corner  near  his  saddle,  and  rolled  a 
cigarette.  To  the  bartender  and  the  customers  he 
paid  no  attention,  for  his  thoughts  were  centered 
on  more  interesting  subjects.  Amber  eyes  and 
honey-colored  hair  can  make  a  pleasant  mental 
picture. 

"  What  a  good-looking  chin  she  had,  too!  "  he 
mused.  "  An'  cheeks,  an'  mouth,  an'  ears,  an'  all. 
I  wonder  how  she'd  look  in  skirts !  " 

He  began  to  whistle  "  Lochaber  No  More," 
with  variations.  The  bar  being  fairly  well  lined 
at  the  time,  it  was  inevitable  that  one  of  the  fringe 
should  project  himself  into  the  lime-light.  The 
projector,  a  long,  black-avised  individual,  had 
not  witnessed  Gilmore's  dousing  of  the  bartender, 
but  he  had  heard  of  it. 

"  Listen  to  the  mocking-bird! "  suggested  this 
thirster  after  publicity.  "Ain't  it  sweet?" 

Conversation  at  the  bar  promptly  languished. 
Men  found  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  long 
citizen  distasteful,  and  began  to  edge  away.  Be- 
fore three  minutes  had  passed,  there  was  discov- 
ered a  clear  space  on  his  either  hand. 

This  was  a  trifle  disconcerting.  The  loss  of  the 
shoulder-touch  always  is;  but  he  had  gone  too  far. 
To  continue  was  imperative.  Ostentatiously  he 
turned  his  back  on  the  whistling  Gilmore  and 
poured  out  another  drink. 

"  It  shore  beats  all,"  remarked  the  long  citizen 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       45 

to  the  bartender,  who  remained  at  the  discreet 
distance  of  two  yards,  "  how  them  singin'  birds'll 
come  driftin'  in  an'  blow  their  liT  old  tin 
horns!" 

Gilmore,  who  had  not  ceased  to  whistle  unslur- 
ringly,  dropped  his  tobacco-bag.  He  leaned  side- 
wise  in  his  chair;  but  instead  of  picking  up  the 
bag,  his  fingers  closed  on  the  rifle  leaning  across 
his  saddle.  His  legs  concealed  the  change  of  ob- 
jective. The  long  mail  was  raising  a  glass  of 
whisky  to  his  lips.  Gilmore  hunched  a  shoulder. 
The  rifle  spat  flame  and  smoke  with  a  roar. 

The  tall  citizen's  hand  halted  six  inches  from 
his  mouth.  Stupidly  he  stared,  first  at  his  empty 
fingers,  then  down  at  the  bits  of  broken  glass  ly- 
ing in  a  trickle  of  liquor  on  the  bar-top. 

Gilmore  laid  down  his  rifle  and  readjusted 
himself  in  his  chair.  Not  knowing  his  audience, 
he  kept  his  right  hand  reasonably  near  the  butt  of 
his  six-shooter. 

"  My  mistake,  stranger,"  he  drawled  apolo- 
getically, grinning  up  at  the  man  who  had  men- 
tioned mocking-birds.  "  I'm  awful  careless  with 
a  rifle.  Sometimes  it  will  go  off  thataway  three 
or  four  times  a  day;  then  again  I  won't  have  any 
trouble  for  a  week,  maybe.  I'm  shore  a  nervous 
party — awful  nervous.  Can't  get  over  it.  Yuh'll 
have  to  excuse  me,  mister.  Have  another  drink 
to  make  up  for  the  one  I  spoiled  for  yuh.  Bar- 
keep,  fill  the  gent's  hand!  " 

But  the  long  man's  thirst  was  assuaged.  Pale 
to  the  ears,  he  faded  from  the  barroom.  Seven 


46       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

citizens  of  Virgin  City  drifted  streetward  in  his 
wake. 

"  From  the  floor,  leanin'  over,  at  the  full  stretch 
of  his  arm — that's  shootin' !  "  was  the  awed  com- 
ment of  one  of  the  seven,  when  they  were  out  of 
ear-shot;  and  the  others  agreed  with  him. 

Left  to  himself,  Gilmore  winked  at  the  glum 
bartender  and  started  in  on  the  "  Logic  of 
Buchan." 

"  Idjit!"  he  reproved  himself,  between  trills. 
"  Why  couldn't  ye  take  a  little  sass  once  in  a 
while?  Had  to  spring  a  grand-stand  play,  too. 
Yo're  not  much  of  a  deputy  1 " 

In  the  afternoon  Gilmore  strolled  across  to 
Sam  Kyle's  saloon.  The  proprietor's  wife  saw 
him  coming. 

"  You  look  tired,  Tom,"  Mrs.  Kyle  observed 
artlessly,  passing  behind  the  bar.  "  S'pose  you 
go  and  fill  the  empties  out  o'  the  half -barrel?  I'll 
take  your  place  for  a  while." 

Nothing  loath — for  filling  bottles  meant  a  long 
nap — the  bartender  departed.  When  Gilmore 
entered  the  saloon,  the  proprietor's  wife  was 
swabbing  the  bar.  The  bar  did  not  require  swab- 
bing, but  the  exercise  displayed  a  pretty  arm  to 
excellent  advantage. 

Gilmore  was  not  unappreciative.  He  gazed  at 
the  arm  and  into  the  remarkably  fine  eyes  of  the 
lady.  Then  he  smiled  gently  and  said  that  he 
thought  he'd  have  a  little  whisky — and  water. 
She  placed  the  two  liquids  before  him  gravely. 
He  poured,  mixed,  and  drank — just  as  gravely. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       47 

The  storekeeper  entered  in  search  of  refresh- 
ment. Mrs.  Kyle  expertly  alined  the  usual  in- 
gredients convenient  to  his  right  hand,  after 
which  she  returned  to  her  post  near  the  silent  and 
reflective  Gilmore.  Her  actions  were  not  lost  on 
the  storekeeper.  He  drank  and  pussy-footed 
hastily  back  to  his  store. 

"  She's  got  a  new  one,"  he  observed  to  a  Tri- 
angle O  customer.  "If  I  was  Sam  Kyle, 
I'd " 

"  You'd  let  her  do  what  she  damwell  pleases, 
like  she  does  now,"  returned  the  cowboy,  with  a 
grin.  "  Not  forty-fourjs,  Bill — forty-five  my 
gun  is." 

"  Shore,  shore!  I  must  be  gettin'  careless  in 
my  old  age  not  to  remember  that.  Here  y'are. 
Sam  ain't  really  a  fool — yuh  can't  run  a  saloon 
an'  be  one  exactly;  an'  yet  Sam  Kyle  don't  seem 
to  look  after  his  wife  none  whatsoever." 

"  I'm  tellin'  yuh  she  don't  mean  no  harm," 
emphasized  the  puncher.  "  She's  straight." 

"  All  the  same,  Sam'll  just  naturally  up  an'  fill 
his  missus  full  o'  lead  some  o'  these  dewy  morn- 
in's.  He's  deep,  Sam  is,  and  them  deep  ones 
won't  stand  everythin'." 

"  S'pose  yuh  hop  over  an'  tell  him  'bout  the 
serpent  in  his  midst,"  the  puncher  suggested 
hopefully.  "  I'll  hold  yore  hat — an'  order  yore 
coffin." 

The  storekeeper  smiled  wanly  and  changed  the 
subject. 

Gilmore,  dawdling  over  his  drink,  was  in  no 


48       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

hurry  to  speak.  Three  customers  came  and  went 
before  he  shifted  his  shoulders  to  face  the  woman. 

"  Any  of  the  Lazy  D  outfit  in  town? "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  replied.  "Maybe.  They 
ain't  been  in  here,  anyhow." 

"  Do  they  always  come  in  here?  " 

"  Most  generally.  They  come  oftener  now 
than  they  used  to.  When  the  old  man  was  alive, 
I  can  tell  you,  stranger,  old  John  Drummond 
used  to  keep  his  boys  a  humpin'.  They  earned 
their  pay,  take  it  from  me;  but  now,  since  Tom 
Johnson  came  to  be  manager,  they've  been  able 
to  act  like  human  beings.  It  must  be  three  years 
since  old  John  Drummond  passed  out.  He  was 
a  hard  worker,  like  I  said,  but  he  was  one  square 
gent,  if  ever  there  was  one.  He'd  'a'  stopped  this 
here  fuss,  and  stopped  it  quick,  I'm  telling  you. 
There  never  was  any  nonsense  about  him." 

"Why  don't  somebody  else  stop  it?"  Gil- 
more's  tone  was  casual. 

"  In  the  first  place,  there's  nobody  round  here 
big  enough  to  stop  it.  In  the  second  place  "  —she 
lowered  her  voice  and  leaned  nearer  to  him — 
"  nobody  wants  to  stop  it.  A  cattle  war  is  a  gam- 
ble— somebody  wins,  and  wins  big.  The  win- 
nings are  sure  worth  a  battle." 

"  Shore,  ma'am,  shore,"  agreed  Gilmore,  mak- 
ing rings  on  the  bar  with  the  wet  bottom  of  his 
glass.  "  I  wonder  is  the  Lazy  D  the  same  outfit 
she  was  before  John  Drummond  went  out!  " 

"  How  do  you  mean — the  same?  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        49 

"  Same  men — like  that." 

"  Only  Tom  Johnson — him  that  was  foreman. 
He's  manager  now,  and  the  only  one  left  of  the 
old  outfit.  They  all  quit  after  the  old  man  went, 
and  Tom,  he  filled  his  band  with  some  hard  gents ; 
but  then  a  punch  has  got  to  be  hard  to  hold  down 
a  job  in  Glenn  County.  It's  eat  or  be  et.  What 
beats  me  is  why  old  John's  son  don't  come  up  here 
and  look  after  his  property.  Not  that  Tom  John- 
son ain't  looking  after  it  all  right — I  don't  mean 
that,  not  for  a  minute;  but  you'd  think  a  sport 
owning  a  ranch  like  the  Lazy  D  would  pay  it  a 
visit  once  in  a  while.  But  not  him.  Young  John 
roosts  somewhere  in  Texas,  and  don't  pay  any 
more  attention  to  the  ranch  than  if  it  was  noth- 
ing. I'll  bet  he  cashes  the  checks  Tom  sends  him, 
though!" 

Gilmore,  a  trifle  astonished  at  the  woman's  gar- 
rulity, rolled  a  cigarette  one-handed  and  with  his 
thumb-nail  snapped  a  match  alight.  Over  the 
pulsing  flame  his  bright  blue  eyes  stared  into  the 
woman's  face.  He  did  not  realize  that  her  lo- 
quacity was  prompted  solely  by  an  overpowering 
desire  to  talk  with  a  person  other  than  an  inhabit- 
ant or  frequenter  of  Virgin  City. 

"  Hasn't  the  young  fellah  ever  been  here?  "  he 
questioned  idly. 

"  No,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head.  "  He's  al- 
ways stayed  home  in  Texas  on  old  John's  other 
ranch." 

"  Two  ranches,  eh?  The  Drummond  family 
must  be  well  fixed." 


50       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  I  guess  so,  and  then  some.    Say,  mister,  what 
did  you  say  your  name  was?  " 

"I  didn't  say,  but  it's   Gilmore— Dal   Gil- 


more." 


"  Mine's  Maryjane  Kyle — Missus  Maryjane 
Kyle.  I'm  married.  My  husband,  Sam,  he  runs 
this  shack." 

Gilmore  received  the  information  with  some 
surprise,  for  Maryjane  Kyle  did  not  have  a  do- 
mestic look.  He  wondered  what  sort  of  man  Sam 
might  be. 

"Thinking  of  staying  here  any  time?"  pur- 
sued Mrs.  Maryjane,  her  head  slightly  tilted. 

"  I  might." 

"  I'm  sure  I  hope  you  do.    I ' 

Bang!  A  shot  crashed  in  the  street.  A  man 
reeled  through  the  doorway  of  the  saloon,  fell  flat 
on  his  face,  rolled  over,  and  sat  up.  Supporting 
himself  on  one  hand,  he  strove  to  drag  out  his 
gun;  but  before  the  weapon  was  clear  of  the  hol- 
ster, a  hard-featured  person  in  chaps  appeared  in 
the  doorway  and  shot  him  through  the  heart. 

The  man  on  the  floor  fell  back.  His  head 
struck  the  floor  a  bumping  thud,  moved  feebly, 
and  was  still. 

"  Sam!    Sam!  "  screamed  Mrs.  Kyle. 

She  ran  round  the  bar  and  fell  on  her  knees  be- 
side the  body.  Dal  Gilmore  hitched  up  his  belt, 
circled  the  weeping  woman  and  her  dead,  and  slid 
through  the  doorway.  Thirty  yards  away  the 
hard-featured  citizen  was  preparing  to  mount  his 
horse. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       51 

"  Hands  up !  "  called  Mr.  Gilmore,  six-shooter 
drawn. 

The  murderer  paused,  one  foot  in  the  stirrup. 
Quite  hastily  his  elbows  nudged  his  ears.  Slowly 
his  foot  fell  away  from  the  stirrup;  slowly  he 
turned,  faced  Mr.  Gilmore,  and  swore  quite 
heartily. 

"  Say !  "  he  bawled.  "  What  for  a  deal  is  this? 
What  are  yuh  try  in'  to  do?  " 

"  I  wish  yuh  wouldn't  shout  so,"  Mr.  Gilmore 
complained  fretfully,  walking  toward  him.  "  I 
ain't  hard  of  hearin' ;  an'  besides,  I  don't  like  loud 
talk.  I  ain't  tryin'  to  do  anything,  fellah,  but 
arrest  yuh  for  murder !  " 

"  Murder !    Say,  what " 

"  Yuh  hadn't  ought  to  'a'  drilled  him  in  the 
back,"  interrupted  Gilmore  severely.  "  Some- 
how, I  didn't  like  the  look  of  that  a  little  bit.  It's 
a  greaser  trick,  that  is,  an'  yuh  don't  look  like  a 
Mexican.  Are  yuh? " 

The  hard-featured  citizen  gasped.  When  he 
could  speak,  he  swore  anew. 

"  What  call  have  yuh  to  arrest  me? "  he  shouted 
at  the  tail  of  a  string  of  crackling  oaths.  "  I  tell 
yuh,  stranger,  yuh  just  better  think  again  before 
hornin'  in  on  this  deal!  Maybe  yuh  don't  know 
where  yuh  are? " 

"  Shore  I'm  right  here,  takin'  yore  gun  away 
for  yuh,  an'  with  my  gun  right  against  yore  shirt. 
I  know  it's  reckoned  dangerous  to  work  in  so 
close,  but  I  ain't  worryin'  any.  This  here  gun  of 
mine  pulls  awful  easy.  A  fellah  don't  hardly 


52       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

know  he's  touched  the  trigger  when  off  she  goes, 
kerblam!  an'  there  yuh  are  all  spread  out  on  the 
real  estate.  Now  yuh  can  turn  round,  still  keepin' 
yore  hands  over  yore  head,  an'  walk  across  the 
street  to  the  hotel." 

"  I  won't!  "  announced  the  other  firmly. 

"  No?  I'm  sorry.  I'd  enjoy  havin'  yuh  go 
alive,  but  if  yuh  prefer  goin'  feet  first,  why,  fel- 
lah, just  take  a  rest  while  I'm  countin'  three. 
One — two — that's  right.  I  kind  of  thought  yuh'd 
see  the  light!" 

Gilmore  marched  his  prisoner  into  the  hotel, 
produced  shiny  new  handcuffs  from  the  cantinas 
on  his  saddle,  and  snapped  them  on  the  murder- 
er's wrists.  The  prisoner  had  lapsed  into  stupe- 
fied silence. 

Gilmore  called  the  landlord  and  paid  his  bill. 
He  was  stowing  away  the  change  when  a  stocky 
man  with  green  and  shifty  eyes  entered  quietly. 

"  I'm  the  marshal,"  announced  the  shifty-eyed 
man,  superfluously  indicating  with  a  spatulate 
thumb  the  star  pinned  against  the  upper  left- 
hand  pocket  of  his  vest.  "  Me  bein'  the  duly  con- 
stitooted  officer  of  the  law  as  made  and  provided 
here  in  Virgin  City,  I'd  shore  admire  to  know 
wherein  an'  how  yuh  undertake  to  mix  in  on  a  fair 
fight  an'  arrest  the  survivin'  party !  " 

Gilmore  turned  a  genial  gaze  on  the  marshal. 
When  he  spoke,  his  tones  were  almost  honeyed  in 
their  suave  accents. 

"  The  marshal?  Yuh  don't  say!  Well,  now, 
I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Shore  yuh  want  to  know  all 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       53 

about  the  fraycas,  an'  correct,  too.  Yuh  know 
yore  business — I  can  see  that  by  the  way  yuh 
keep  yore  pretty  little  star  all  bright  an'  shinin'. 
Yuh'd  like  to  know  where  I  get  the  right  to  arrest 
this  killer.  I'm  a  deputy  sheriff.  Here — take  a 
good  look  at  my  star.  I  always  wear  it  under  my 
vest  thisaway,  because  it  ain't  really  nobody's 
business  who  I  am  till  it  comes  time  for  a  show- 
down, like  now.  Have  I  any  right  to  arrest  this 
man?" 

"  Shore,"  agreed  the  marshal,  scratching  his 
head;  "  but  I  can  tell  yuh  yo're  makin'  a  big  mis- 
take!" 

"  No  mistake  at  all,"  Gilmore  contradicted 
warmly.  "  I  saw  the  whole  fraycas.  This  party 
wearin'  the  come-alongs  didn't  give  the  other 
sport  a  chance.  It  was  a  cold  deal.  He'll  hang 
for  murder ! " 

"  Maybe  he  did,  but " 

"  Did  I  hear  yuh  say  '  maybe  '?  " 

Gilmore's  bright  blue  eyes  turned  frosty  on  the 
instant,  as  they  gimleted  their  way  into  the  shifty 
green  orbs  of  the  marshal. 

'  Yuh  did  not,"  the  marshal  asserted  hastily. 
'  It's  just  like  yuh  say,  but  still  it's  a  mistake. 
The  beefed  gent  was  Sam  Kyle,  owner  of  the 
Ace  Saloon.  This  party  is  Slim  Dennison,  fore- 
man o'  the  V  Up-an'-Down  outfit.  There  ain't 
no  chance  he'll  hang — not  in  Glenn  County,  no- 
how. Yuh  might  just  as  well  turn  him  loose,  Mr. 
Deputy,  an'  save  hard  feelin's  an'  a  lot  o'  trouble 
all  round." 


54       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  If  yuh  don't,"  sneered  the  hard-faced  Denni- 
son,  "  yuh'll  be  lynched  so  quick  it'll  make  yore 
hair  curl!" 

"  If  I  am,  yuh'll  be  too  dead  to  enjoy  the 
sight,"  retorted  Gilmore.  "  Yo're  goin'  to  Plain 
Edge — with  me.  Yuh  can  go  livin',  like  I  say,  or 
yuh  can  go  in  a  pack,  but  yo're  goin'.  It's  a 
whipsaw — yuh  lose  both  ways.  Marshal,  yo're 
an  officer  of  the  law.  I  call  on  you  to  help  me  in 
this  deal.  You  bring  the  prisoner  along,  while  I 
carry  my  saddle  an'  bridle  down  to  the  corral. 
That's  it — in  front  of  me,  both  of  yuh!  " 

In  deep  silence,  watched  by  amazed  citizens 
who  carefully  refrained  from  comments  or  any 
display  of  interest,  the  three  walked  to  the  corral. 
The  storekeeper,  standing  in  his  doorway,  rubbed 
a  stubbly  chin. 

"  Who'd  'a'  thought  that  could  happen  in 
Glenn  County?  "  he  muttered.  "  Law  an'  order  I 
It  don't  sound  possible! " 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  marshal  rode  with  the  deputy  and  his 
prisoner  on  their  way  north.  He  had  no  burning 
desire  to  keep  them  company;  but  Dal  Gilmore 
had  suggested  it — suggested  it  with  twinkling 
eyes  and  a  fixed  grin  that  would  have  daunted 
stronger  men  than  the  marshal. 

"  It's  right  kindly  o'  yuh  to  trapes  along  with 
us  thisaway,"  acknowledged  Gilmore,  when  the 
town  was  a  mile  astern  of  their  horses'  tails.  "  I 
won't  forget  it." 

The  prisoner  laughed  harshly.  Like  the  scratch 
of  a  slipped  knife  angling  across  a  plate,  the 
sound  grated  on  the  marshal's  stretched  nerves, 
and  he  almost  jumped.  He  raised  his  eyes  to 
find  Gilmore  staring  at  him,  an  odd  quirk  at  each 
corner  of  the  young  man's  smiling  mouth.  The 
marshal  realized  that  he  might  as  well  have 
jumped.  To  cover  his  confusion,  he  spoke  more 
or  less  at  random. 

*  Yo're  makin'  a  big  mistake,"  he  said  again. 

"  Yuh  said  that  before,"  Gilmore  complained 
plaintively.  "  I  could  find  it  easy  to  like  yuh  a 
lot,  marshal,  if  yuh  wasn't  always  repeatin'  yore- 
self.  Travelin'  the  same  trail  thataway — don't 
yuh  ever  get  tired  of  it?  " 


56       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

The  marshal  did  not  reply.  He  did  not  know 
how.  The  verbal  parry  being  out  of  the  question, 
the  obvious  course  was  to  make  a  remark  beyond 
which  there  would  lie  nothing  save  an  appeal  to 
arms.  To  make  such  a  remark  would  have  ex- 
ceedingly rejoiced  his  soul;  but  somehow  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  free  one's  mind  to  a  quick-shooting  citi- 
zen who  is  heedless  of  consequences. 

The  marshal  had  been  a  witness  to  Gilmore's 
rifle-practice  in  the  hotel  bar.  He  possessed  a 
certain  brand  of  animal  courage.  Willingly  he 
would  have  gone  up  against  his  equals,  any  or  all 
of  them ;  but  he  knew  in  his  inmost  heart  that  he 
was  Gilmore's  physical,  mental,  and  moral  in- 
ferior, and  he  knew  that  Gilmore  knew  it.  The 
marshal  only  hoped  that  the  prisoner  did  not 
know  it,  too. 

"Yo're  a  fine  marshal,  Tim  Simms!"  Slim 
Dennison  announced  suddenly.  '  Yuh  let  this 
sport  take  me  away  right  out  from  under  yore 
nose.  What'll  Jack  Shaw  do  about  it,  huh?  I'm 
askin'  yuh,  what'll  Jack  do? " 

The  marshal's  green  eyes  shifted  hither  and 
yon  quite  rapidly.  Gilmore  chuckled,  and  rolled 
a  cigarette. 

"  Why  don't  yuh  answer  the  gent? "  was  Gil- 
more's polite  query,  when  the  harassed  marshal 
remained  dumb. 

Tim  Simms  snorted  out  a  reference  to  the  in- 
fernal regions. 

"  Seems  like  it  might  be  just  that,  before  all's 
over,"  drawled  Gilmore.  "  There's  a  heap  o'  hell 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       57 

lyin'  round  loose  an'  promiscuous  in  Glenn 
County  —  too  much  by  a  whole  lot.  It  ought  to 
be  cleaned  up.  It's  goin'  to  be  cleaned  up.  If 
yuh  set  any  value  by  that  star  on  yore  chest, 
yuh'll  help." 

"  Say  -  "  began  the  marshal. 

"  Don't  be  in  too  big  a  hurry  to  say  it,"  advised 
Gilmore. 

The  marshal  subsided.  The  prisoner  emitted  a 
string  of  oaths. 

"  Have  yuh  done  gone  traded  in  yore  gun  for 
a  atomizer,  Tim  Simms?"  he  added.  "What's 
the  matter  with  yuh,  anyway?  " 

"You  can  go  plumb  to  hell!"  snapped  the 
marshal,  wagging  a  thick  forefinger  at  Slim. 
"  Don'tcha  try  to  ride  me,  feller  —  don'tcha  try 
it!" 

"  If  I  had  my  gun  I'd  ride  yuh  quick  enough, 
an'  don'tcha  forget  it!  Yuh  know  I  ain't  got  it. 
That's  why  yuh  can  talk  thisaway!  " 

There  was  reason  in  this.  Furthermore,  by 
quarreling  with  Slim,  there  was  nothing  to  gain 
and  a  great  deal  to  lose. 

"  If  yuh  had  yore  gun,  yuh  wouldn't  be  here," 
said  the  marshal  equably.  "  Don't  yuh  fret  none. 
Yuh'll  get  out  o'  this  all  right." 

"  I  know  that,  but  you'd  ought  to  'a'  done 
somethin',  'stead  of  standin'  there  like  a  wart  on 
a  pickle.  Yuh  don't  think  I  like  this,  do 


Slim  suggestively  jingled  his  handcuffs.    The 
marshal  stared  unhappily  at  his  horse's  ears.    He 


58        The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

and  the  prisoner  were  riding  side  by  side.  Gil- 
more  had  dropped  a  yard  or  two  in  the  rear. 
Now  he  called  a  halt  and  ordered  the  prisoner  to 
change  horses  with  him. 

*  Yo're  heavier Jn  me,"  he  explained,  "  an'  the 
dun's  stronger'n  yore  cayuse.  If  he  piles  yuh, 
we'll  be  shore  to  stop  an'  pick  yuh  up." 

But  the  yellow  horse  did  not  pile  Slim  Denni- 
son.  He  bore  him  meekly  enough,  and  Gilmore 
took  up  his  former  position  in  the  rear. 

Little  by  little,  Gilmore  dropped  back  till  sev- 
eral yards  separated  him  from  the  others.  Reach- 
ing down,  he  made  sure  that  his  six-shooter  was 
loose  in  the  holster.  Then  he  began  to  loll  in  the 
saddle  and  hum  broken  snatches  of  song.  At  in- 
tervals he  yawned  widely  and  loudly. 

All  these  bits  of  byplay  were  not  lost  on  the 
precious  pair  in  front.  Under  cover  of  the  mar- 
shal's lighting  a  cigarette  for  Slim,  they  whis- 
pered together. 

"  They're  plottin'  away  forty  to  the  minute!  " 
Gilmore  said  to  himself  delightedly.  "  This  is 
goin'  to  be  easier  than  I  thought." 

Rounding  a  low  hill,  the  trail  diagonally 
climbed  a  ridge,  ribboned  down  the  reverse  slope, 
and  vanished  in  a  belt  of  pine-trees.  At  the  top 
of  the  ridge  Gilmore  caught  the  marshal  looking 
furtively  over  his  shoulder.  He  promptly  wav- 
ered a  little  in  the  saddle.  His  head  bobbed.  He 
strove  to  present  the  appearance  of  one  far  gone 
in  fatigue  and  drowsiness. 

It  was  coarse  work,  but  the  marshal  was  no 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       59 

judge  of  acting.  Wholly  devoid  of  subtlety  him- 
self, he  did  not  attribute  that  admirable  quality 
to  others. 

Where  the  shadow  of  the  first  pine-tree  fell 
across  the  trail,  Simms  slipped  from  his  saddle. 
At  the  same  moment  Slim  Dennison,  crouching 
forward,  jumped  the  dun  horse  in  among  the 
trees.  Simultaneously  with  the  aforesaid  actions 
of  the  marshal  and  the  prisoner,  Gilmore's  hand 
flashed  down  and  up,  and  his  six-shooter  spat 
spitefully. 

The  marshal  howled  shrilly  as  his  revolver  flew 
one  way  and  the  last  joint  of  his  thumb  another. 
From  the  belt  of  pines  there  drifted  the  sound  of 
galloping  hoofs.  Gilmore  hurriedly  clapped  two 
fingers  to  his  mouth,  and  the  galloping  sound 
ceased  abruptly. 

Gilmore  approached  the  agonized  Simms,  who 
was  teetering  upon  his  high  heels  and  clutching 
the  wrist  of  his  wounded  hand  as  if  he  feared  it 
would  depart  from  him.  When  the  deputy  had 
recovered  the  marshal's  six-shooter  and  stuffed 
it  into  the  waistband  of  his  own  trousers,  he 
pulled  out  another  pair  of  handcuffs  and  chained 
the  unhappy  individual  fast  to  a  lodge-pole 
pine. 

*  Wait  for  me,"  Gilmore  urged  genially,  and 
went  into  the  woods  on  the  trail  of  Slim  Dennison 
and  the  dun. 

Fifty  yards  from  where  he  had  left  the  mar- 
shal he  found  the  dun  horse,  its  legs  braced  four- 
square, peacefully  gazing  upon  the  writhing  form 


60       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

of  Slim  Dennison.  Slim  was  indisposed  after  his 
heavy  fall,  and  showed  it  noisily.  Gilmore 
frankly  hooted  and  slapped  his  leather-clad 
thighs. 

"  What  do  yuh  think  of  my  little  trick  hoss? " 
he  demanded.  "  Piled  yuh  nice  an'  easy,  didn't 
he?  Yessir,  that's  a  reg'lar  four-legged  hoss  with 
a  mane  an'  a  tail,  that  is !  I  wouldn't  take  a  hun- 
dred dollars  for  him — no,  not  if  I  was  flat  broke 
an'  my  ribs  caved  in.  Don't  mind  me,  Slim!  Go 
on,  have  yore  sick  out.  Yuh  got  all  the  time  there 
is.  After  yuh  get  through,  we'll  go  back  an'  join 
the  marshal  where  he's  got  both  arms  wrapped 
round  a  tree.  Funny  fellah,  that  marshal  man! 
I  never  did  see  any  gent  get  attached  to  anythin' 
so  quick  an'  so  hard!  " 

Mr.  Gilmore  laughed  anew  and  wiped  tears  of 
unfeigned  merriment  from  his  eyes.  Then  he 
sat  down,  leaned  comfortably  against  a  tree,  and 
rolled  a  cigarette. 

After  an  appreciable  interval  Slim  Dennison 
hauled  himself  to  a  sitting  position.  He  was  not 
pretty  to  look  at.  Gilmore  stared  at  him  critic- 
ally. 

"  As  a  ranch  foreman,  yo're  almost  ruined," 
observed  the  deputy,  delicately  flicking  the  ash 
from  his  cigarette  with  his  little  finger.  "  Yore 
nose  an'  yore  forehead  ain't  what  they  used  to  be 
by  several  square  inches  of  skin,  an'  yore  left  ear 
has  been  kind  of  mashed  an'  shredded  up  right 
smart.  That  chin  of  yores  won't  need  shavin'  for 
a  long,  long  time,  an'  yore  right  eye  is  turnin' 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       61 

black  fast.  Yessir,  Slim,  yore  boss  won't  know 
yuh  when  he  sees  yuh  lookin'  out  through  the 
bars  of  Plain  Edge  calaboose!  " 

Slim  Dennison  spat  several  curses  and  one 
tooth  at  his  grinning  tormentor. 

"  I  forgot  yore  teeth,"  Gilmore  continued  tran- 
quilly. "  Any  more  besides  that  one?  Come  on 
now ;  up  yuh  come,  an'  we'll  be  gettin'  back  to  the 
marshal.  I  don't  want  him  to  grow  into  that 
tree!" 

They  returned  to  the  marshal,  who,  when  they 
appeared,  loudly  desired  to  know  whether  Gil- 
more  wished  him  to  bleed  to  death. 

*  There's  no  arteries  in  yore  thumb — not  a 
one,"  rejoined  the  deputy.    "  Yo're  just  losin'  a 
little  surface  blood;  that's  all.    Nothin'  to  worry 
yuh  at  all.    Here,  don't  joggle  so!    How  can  I 
wrap  her  up  good  wiih  you  hoppin'  round  like  a 
stung  steer? " 

Ten  minutes  later  they  were  riding  northward 
again,  Slim  Dennison  in  the  lead  on  the  dun,  the 
marshal  following,  and  the  rear  brought  up  by 
Dal  Gilmore.  Round  Dennison's  neck  was  the 
loop  of  a  rope,  which  in  turn  encircled  the  neck 
of  the  marshal  and  was  finally  made  fast  at  the 
deputy's  saddle-horn. 

*  You  fellahs  want  to  ride  nice  an'  easy  like," 
Gilmore  cheerfully  remarked.    "  If  those  hosses 
should  run  away  now " 

The  prisoners,  their  backs  turned,  were  unable 
to  perceive  the  eloquent  wave  of  the  deputy's 
cigarette  that  completed  the  sentence;  but  they 


62       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

knew  what  was  meant,  and  their  jaundiced  minds 
were  filled  with  evil  foreboding. 

Toward  sundown,  looking  backward  across  a 
sun-baked  flat,  Gilmore  saw  a  lone  horseman 
overhauling  them  at  a  stretching  run.  Herding 
his  prisoners  close  together,  the  deputy  swung  his 
horse  across  the  trail  in  front  of  them,  and  dis- 
mounted. He  had  no  sentimental  notions  about 
the  sanctity  of  prisoners'  bodies.  If  a  rescue  were 
toward,  then  so  much  the  worse  for  them.  They 
would  be  shot  first. 

Not  knowing  how  Slim  Dennison's  horse 
would  act  under  fire,  he  was  careful  not  to  rest 
his  rifle  on  the  saddle  when  he  squinted  through 
the  sights  at  the  oncoming  rider. 

"  Yore  finish  is  a-comin',"  announced  Slim 
Dennison  gleefully,  his  beady  black  eyes  alight. 
"  This  sport  is  just  the  lead-horse;  the  rest  o'  the 
herd  will  be  up  shortly.  Then  I  guess  maybe 
yuh'll  be  singin'  another  tune !  " 

"  Yuh'll  be  lynched,"  balefully  observed  the 
marshal.  "Lynched,  I  tell  yuh!  That's  just 
what's  a-goin'  to  happen  to  yuh.  Teach  yuh  to 
come  up  here  an'  try  to  run  things !  " 

"  I  guess  likely,"  returned  Gilmore.  "  Hot 
day,  ain't  it? " 

There  was  no  further  interchange  of  courtesies. 

At  four  hundred  yards'  range  Gilmore  fired  a 
warning  shot — high.  The  horseman  immedi- 
ately halted  and  flung  up  his  right  hand,  palm 
outward,  in  the  peace  sign. 

"  Now  I   wonder! "  muttered   Gilmore,   and 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        63 

continued  to  stare  warily  along  the  sights  of  his 
Winchester. 

The  rider  dismounted,  flung  the  reins  over  his 
mount's  head,  stepped  far  to  one  side,  and  un- 
buckled his  cartridge-belt.  Raising  it  above  his 
head,  so  that  Gilmore  could  plainly  see  the  six- 
shooter  in  its  holster  and  the  knife  in  its  sheath, 
he  quickly  lowered  belt  and  weapons  to  the 
ground  and  started  to  walk  toward  Gilmore,  with 
both  hands  on  a  level  with  his  ears.  The  deputy 
did  not  cease  to  cover  him  as  he  approached. 

"  I'd  kind  of  stop  right  there,"  softly  advised 
Gilmore,  when  the  newcomer  was  within  twenty 
yards.  "  I  can  hear  what  yuh  have  to  say  all 
right!" 

The  man  instantly  came  to  a  halt.  He  was  a 
wide-shouldered,  swarthy  individual  with  a  black 
mustache  and  piercing  black  eyes. 

"  I  have  nothin'  to  say,"  he  remarked  with  a 
flash  of  white  teeth.  "  I  have  letter.  Can  I  geeve 
her  you?  " 

"  Just  drop  her  on  the  ground,  then  turn  yore 
back,  walk  five  steps,  an'  sit  down." 

"  Shore,  I  do  dat." 

The  dark  man  fished  in  the  breast  pocket  of  his 
flannel  shirt,  and  produced  a  crumbled  bit  of 
paper.  He  tossed  it  toward  Gilmore,  turned  his 
back,  and  did  as  the  deputy  had  ordered. 

Gilmore  unhurriedly  walked  forward  and 
picked  up  the  paper.  He  retreated  behind  his 
breastworks  before  smoothing  out  its  several 
folds.  The  letter  ran; 


64       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

DEAR  MR.  GILMORE  : 

You  are  in  great  danger.  Slim  Dennison  's  friends, 
and  the  marshal's,  too,  are  organizing  to  trail  you  and 
that  murderer.  They  aim  to  kill  you  and  free  the 
murderer.  They  will  start  soon.  Don't  stay  on  the  trail. 
Smoky  Nivette  will  show  you  how  to  get  to  Plain  Edge 
by  a  short  cut.  He  is  an  honest  man  and  a  friend  of 
mine.  You  can  trust  him. 

Hoping  this  finds  you  well,  as  it  leaves  me,  but  very 
sad  at  present,  I  am 

Your  heart-broken  friend, 

MARYJANE  KYLE. 

Gilmore  stuffed  the  letter  into  one  of  his  vest- 
pockets  and  hurriedly  dodged  round  his  breast- 
works to  shake  the  hand  of  Smoky  Nivette.  He 
had  made  an  instantaneous  decision  to  accept  the 
warning  at  its  face  value.  It  might  be  a  forgery, 
designed  to  lead  him  into  a  trap ;  but  if  his  ene- 
mies were  plotting  his  downfall,  why  should  they 
go  to  the  trouble  of  writing  a  letter  and  sending 
a  messenger  when  a  simple,  unfrilled  pursuit 
would  have  been  easier  and  more  logical?  So  the 
deputy  reasoned  as  he  shook  hands  with  Nivette 
and  assured  him  that  he  was  very  glad  to  see 
him. 

"Me,  too,"  flashed  Smoky  Nivette,  with  a 
chuckle  of  mirth  directly  inherited  from  his 
French  father.  *  We  got  to  hurry.  I  geet  my 
hoss  un  we  weel  dreeft." 

'Y'betcha!"  said  Gilmore,  and  returned  to 
his  prisoners. 

They  regarded  him  glumly.  Of  the  two,  the 
marshal  appeared  to  be  a  degree  the  more  un- 
happy. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       65 

"  That  dam'  breed!  "  the  marshal  remarked  in 
a  low  voice.  "  What  does  he  want?  " 

"  Seems  like  yuh  corne  mighty  near  knowin', 
or  yuh  wouldn't  be  so  free  with  yore  language," 
Gilmore  replied,  returning  his  rifle  to  the  scab- 
bard under  the  right  fender. 

"  It  won't  do  yuh  no  good,"  snarled  the  mar- 
shal. "  We'll  be  free  ten  minutes  after  we  see 
the  sheriff  in  Plain  Edge." 

"  I  guess,"  said  Gilmore.    "  I  guess  likely!  " 

Smoky  Nivette,  riding  up,  bestowed  upon  the 
prisoners  the  steady,  glittering  stare  of  his  In- 
dian ancestry  on  the  petticoat  side.  His  features 
had  subtly  changed.  In  the  hard,  black  eyes  and 
in  the  dark  face  one  read  now  the  call  of  the 
stake,  the  flaying  knives,  the  burning  splinters, 
and  other  recondite  means  to  the  end  that  cap- 
tives may  be  put  to  unutterable  anguish. 

Dennison  and  the  marshal  returned  the  half- 
breed's  gaze,  but  not  for  long.  Their  eyes  wav- 
ered, shifted,  then  slid  sidewise  in  their  sockets, 
and  finally  settled  upon  the  landscape.  Gilmore 
smiled  slightly,  and  suggested  that  they  might  as 
well  be  continuing  their  journey. 

Under  the  expert  guidance  of  Smoky  Nivette 
the  party  turned  aside  from  the  trail,  dropped 
down  a  steep  slope,  and  rode  through  a  fringe  of 
cottonwoods  into  a  creek.  Riding  in  the  water, 
they  followed  the  creek  till  darkness  replaced  the 
long  summer  twilight;  then  they  went  ashore,  un- 
saddled, and  hobbled  the  horses. 

The  half-breed  built  a  tiny  fire  between  two 


66       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

boulders  so  cunningly  that  barely  a  ray  was  vis- 
ible at  a  distance  of  forty  feet.  The  prisoners, 
bootless — lest  they  should  be  moved  to  attempt 
escape — cuddled  their  feet  and  hungrily  sniffed 
the  frying  bacon.  Gilmore  lay  on  his  back,  and 
knew  that  the  world  was  good.  So  far  luck  had 
been  amazingly  with  him.  He  hoped  it  would  re- 
main in  that  position. 

"  How  far  to  Plain  Edge?  "  he  inquired,  when 
the  food  had  vanished. 

"  Feefty  mile,"  replied  Nivette.  "  Long  mile 
dey  are,  too.  Lak  dis !  " 

He  made  a  saw-tooth  motion  with  his  right 
hand. 

"  Perpendicular  scenery,  huh?  We'll  get 
there,  if  it's  worse'n  that." 

"  Why  go  dere,  Meester  Geelmore? "  ques- 
tioned the  half-breed,  his  eyes  two  shining  pin- 
points in  the  thin  glow  of  his  cigarette. 

"  What  do  you  mean? "  Gilmore's  tone  held 
more  than  a  hint  of  hardness. 

"  I  mean  dis — why  tak'  dese  men  to  Plain 
Edge?  Sleem,  she  have  keel  Sam  Kyle.  Sleem 
mus'  die.  I  have  not  ask  for  why  Teem,  de  mar- 
shal, wear  de  han'cuff,  but  I  guess  she  be  good 
t'ing  eef  Teem  die,  too.  Well,  den,  we  tak'  dem 
to  Plain  Edge.  Dey  weel  not  die.  Dey  weel  go 
free.  So,  I  say,  why  tak'  dem  to  Plain  Edge? 
Dees  plass  she  ees  good  plass  for  leave  a  man. 
Are  you  me?  " 

Gilmore  understood.  So  did  the  two  prisoners, 
as  their  accelerated  breathing  plainly  testified. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        67 

"  Can't  be  did,"  Gilmore  said  shortly.  "  They 
goto  Plain  Edge!" 

"But 

"  There  ain't  any  buts.  If  yuh  don't  want  to 
guide  me  to  Plain  Edge,  yuh  don't  have  to.  I'll 
make  out  on  my  own  hook." 

"  Oh,  I  weel  go  wit'  you,"  Nivette  grunted  re- 
signedly. "  I  know  how  you  see  dees  t'ing.  I 
have  been  deputy,  too.  You  have  swore  to  hold 
up  de  law  un  de  ordair.  Dat  ees  right — dat  ees 
fine;  but  mabbeso  dere  ees  no  law  un  no  ordair. 
What  ees  dere  to  hold  up,  den?  By  gar,  dees 
Glenn  County,  she  ees  de  bad  plass,  lak  I  say 
widout  de  law  un  de  ordair,  where  horse-t'ief  un 
rustler  raise  trouble  all  de  time.  I  say  we  do  lak 
de  Texas  Rangair  treat  de  greasair — let  dese  two 
men  try  for  escape;  un  when  we  have  bury  dem, 
who  weel  say  all  was  not  fair?  But  eef  you  say 
no,  den  I  do  what  you  say.  Togedder  we  tak5 
'em  to  Plain  Edge/ 

"  Plain  Edge  it  is,"  said  Gilmore,  greatly  re- 
lieved to  hear  that  the  half-breed  would  not  de- 
sert him. 

Hampered  by  two  prisoners,  in  an  unknown 
region,  and  pursued  by  a  band  of  citizens  bent  on 
lynching,  he  was  not  in  a  position  where  he  could 
afford  to  refuse  a  proffer  of  aid. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IT  might  well  be  that  the  Hash  Knife  boys,  set 
on  the  deputy's  trail  by  Louise  Stuart,  were  al- 
ready in  Plain  Edge.  In  that  case  it  would  be  a 
large,  wide  day.  As  Gilmore  had  suggested  to 
his  two  prisoners: 

"  If  yore  friends  are  here,  yuh  better  pray- 
hard!" 

The  sun  was  three  hours  high  when  the  four 
rode  into  Plain  Edge.  The  town,  a  fair  counter- 
part of  Virgin  City,  rubbed  its  eyes  individually 
and  en  masse  when  it  beheld  the  V  Up-and-Down 
foreman  and  the  Virgin  City  marshal  wearing 
handcuffs. 

What  could  have  happened?  Had  the  Virgin 
City  people  been  struck  mad,  that  they  should 
allow  two  of  their  most  shining  lights  to  be  so 
treated?  Smoky  Nivette  was  known  to  be  an 
oddly  honest  man,  but  that  he  should  appear  in 
the  role  of  a  reformer  did  not  fit  the  picture. 
Who  was  the  stranger?  Always  smiling,  wasn't 
he?  Looked  like  a  hard-bitted  fellow,  though. 
He  must  be,  to  have  got  the  drop  on  those  two 
sharps.  Thus  Plain  Edge  chattered  circum- 
spectly under  its  breath  as  it  followed  the  four 
riders  to  the  calaboose. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       69 

Smolcy  Nivette  had  informed  Gilmore  that  the 
sheriff  slept  in  the  room  behind  the  jail  proper. 
Leaving  the  half-breed  and  the  two  prisoners  in 
front  of  the  building,  the  deputy  rode  round  to 
the  back  door  and  beat  upon  it  with  his  fist. 
There  was  no  sound  within. 

Gilmore  dismounted,  his  eyes  extremely  busy. 
So  far  there  had  been  no  sign  of  hostility,  and 
none  of  the  ponies  in  sight  bore  the  Hash  Knife 
brand.  Perhaps  he  had  given  Stuart  and  his 
boys  credit  for  too  much  energy.  A  mild-looking 
little  wisp  of  a  man  oozed  round  the  corner. 

"  Lookin'  for  the  sheriff? "  ventured  the  wispy 
one. 

"  Where  is  he? "  Gilmore  wheeled,  his  hand  on 
the  latch. 

"  He  ain't,"  replied  the  wisp,  tilting  his  hat 
and  scratching  a  large  ear. 

"  He  ain't?  "  Gilmore  repeated  stupidly. 

"  Shore,  he  ain't,"  nodded  the  little  man.  "  Got 
drunk  last  night,  the  sheriff  did,  an'  he  mistook  a 
case  o'  dynamite  sticks,  down  at  Clancy's,  for  the 
wood-box.  Thinkin'  they're  fire-wood,  the  sheriff 
dumps  a  whole  armful  of  the  sticks  into  the 
stove.  We  picked  Clancy,  who  was  kind  of 
mixed  up  with  a  bed  an'  most  o'  the  roof,  out  of 
the  river,  but  the  sheriff  done  vanished  complete. 
That's  why  he  ain't." 

The  wispy  one  extracted  a  long  plug  from  his 
boot-leg,  bit  off  a  chew,  and  worked  his  jaws 
squirrel-wise. 

"That's    shore    tough!"    Gilmore    remarked 


70       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

heartily,  strong  in  the  knowledge  that  he  was 
greatly  favored  of  Providence.  He  had  expected 
trouble  with  the  sheriff,  and  the  official's  demise 
could  hardly  have  been  more  apropos.  "  Where's 
the  deputy — Enright?  "  he  added. 

"  Off  some'eres,"  the  little  man  announced. 
"  tie  may  be  at  Virgin  City,  or  'most  anywheres. 
Yuh  can't  tell." 

So  much  the  better.  Breathing  an  earnest 
hope  that  Enright,  who  was  an  unknown  quan- 
tity, would  prolong  his  absence,  Gilmore  went  to 
unbar  the  calaboose  door. 

The  prisoners  complained  bitterly  of  hunger 
and  thirst  as  they  were  thrust  within.  True,  they 
had  had  nothing  to  eat  or  drink  since  the  previous 
day;  but  neither  had  their  keepers. 

"  Keep  yore  hair  on,"  Gilmore  advised  them. 
"  Yuh'll  be  watered  an'  fed  quick  as  I  can  pack 
water  an'  rustle  some  chuck.  Now  stop  yore 
yowlin'!" 

Slamming  shut  the  iron-bound  door  of  the 
jail,  he  dropped  the  heavy  bars  across  it.  He 
turned  to  find  the  wispy  one  at  his  elbow. 

"  My  hotel's  right  across  the  street,"  the  little 
man  hazarded,  with  an  engaging  grin  that  re- 
vealed the  loss  of  several  teeth.  "  Got  a  good 
corral,  too,  an'  a  Injun  to  guard  it  at  night." 

;<  That's  shore  an  inducement,  that  Injun 
watch-dog,"  Gilmore  replied.  "  I'll  go  yuh!  " 

"  Fine!"  said  the  other,  and  turned  to  shake 
hands  with  Nivette.  "  She's  a  long  time  since  I 
seen  you,  Smoky." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       71 

While  he  and  Nivette  were  unsaddling  the 
four  horses  at  the  corral  bars,  Niyette  told  him 
that  the  wispy  proprietor  could  be  trusted. 

"  Dat  ees  why  she  say  come  to  hees  hotel,"  ex- 
plained the  half-breed.  "  She  unnerstan'  we  are 
buck  de  hard  game,  un  she  wan'  for  help.  She 
one  hones'  man,  dat  Shorty  Damman." 

Judge  Trivvy,  the  pasty-faced,  flabby  una- 
dornment  of  the  Glenn  County  bench,  was  look- 
ing through  the  bottom  of  a  glass  for  the  fifth 
time  that  morning  when  Gilmore  and  Nivette  en- 
tered upon  him.  He  set  down  the  glass  and 
blinked  blearily  at  them. 

*  Your  business,  gentlemen?  "  he  said  cour- 
teously, leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  clasp- 
ing pudgy  hands  across  a  still  more  pudgy 
paunch. 

"  I  want  a  warrant  for  Slim  Dennison,"  Gil- 
more  announced  briskly.  "  He's  charged  with 
the  murder  of  Samuel  Kyle,  of  Virgin  City.  An' 
I  want  another  warrant  for  Timothy  Simms,  the 
Virgin  City  marshal.  He's  charged  with  at- 
temptin'  to  help  a  prisoner  to  escape." 

His  honor's  pale,  red-rimmed  eyes  bulged.  He 
found  it  difficult  to  credit  his  ears.  Actually,  war- 
rants for  two  of  his  own  friends  were  being  de- 
manded! What  was  the  world  coming  to?  And 
who  was  this  pushing  person  wearing  the  star  of 
a  deputy  sheriff? 

"  I  don't  believe  I  quite  understand,"  frowned 
the  judge.  "  I  am  sure  there  is  some  mistake. 
There  must  be.  I " 


72        The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  There  ain't  any  mistake,"  Gilmore  broke  in. 
"  I  saw  Slim  Dennison  turn  the  trick.  That 
goes  for  the  marshal,  too.  I'm  a  witness  against 
both  of  'em.  Do  I  get  the  warrants?  " 

"  Who  are  you? "  evaded  the  judge,  feeling 
somehow  at  a  loss  in  the  presence  of  this  direct 
and  forceful  character  with  the  smiling  mouth 
and  the  twinkling  blue  eyes. 

"  Who  am  I?  "  drawled  Gilmore.  "  Why,  I'm 
just  Dal  Gilmore,  appointed  a  deputy  sheriff  in 
this  county  by  the  Governor.  Here's  my  ap- 
pointment." 

From  an  inner  pocket  of  his  vest  he  pulled  a 
long  slip  of  folded  paper.  Flipping  it  open,  he 
spread  it  on  the  table  in  front  of  the  judge. 
Reluctantly  the  latter  read  the  formal  wording 
that  bore  witness  to  Gilmore's  veracity.  Trivvy 
raised  his  eyes  and  cocked  one  plump  leg  over  the 
other. 

"  Do  you  realize  what  you  are  doing  in  request- 
ing me  to  issue  these  warrants?  "  was  the  judge's 
bald  query. 

"  I'm  doin'  what  I'm  paid  to  do,"  Gilmore  re- 
plied. 

"  You're  young — young  and,  I  fear,  hot- 
headed. I  realize  that  your  mind  is  filled  with 
the  high  duties  of  your  office,  but  you  must  learn 
to  temper  with  common  sense  the  prosecution  of 
those  same  duties.  Nothing  is  ever  gained  by 
thoughtless  haste.  Think  it  over.  I  am  sure  the 
V  Up-and-Down  will  be  reasonable  in  the  mat- 
ter. They " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        73 

"That's  enough!"  interrupted  Gilmore. 
"  You've  said  all  I  aim  to  hear.  J[  want  those 
warrants.  I  aim  to  get  'em,  if  I  have  to  build  a 
fire  under  yuh  or  beat  yuh  to  death  with  a  quirt. 
I've  handled  mules  before.  My  methods  never 
fail." 

Gilmore  looked  menacingly  at  the  judge,  and 
drew  his  wire-bound  quirt  through  his  fingers  in 
a  manner  unpleasantly  significant.  Trivvy's 
nerves  began  to  jerk.  He  strove  to  preserve  his 
dignity,  to  appear  calm;  but  there  was  an  uneasy 
feeling  about  his  digestive  tract.  He  broke  out 
in  a  gentle  perspiration. 

"  Young  man,  you  are  offensive  and  impu- 
dent !  "  said  Judge  Trivvy.  "  Get  out  of  here,  or 
I  shall  hold  you  for  contempt  of  court!  " 

Gilmore  laughed. 

"  Judge,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  want  to  beat  yuh  to 
a  frazzle.  Yo're  old,  gray-headed,  an'  fat,  an'  no- 
body loves  yuh,  not  even  yore  friends.  Yuh'd 
ought  to  'a'  been  lynched  long  ago.  How  yuh've 
done  escaped  it  so  long  is  a  mystery.  This  is  the 
way  the  rope  feels,  judge!  " 

Swift  as  a  snake  striking,  Gilmore's  right  hand 
flashed  out,  and  his  long  fingers  twined  them- 
selves in  the  front  of  the  judge's  white  collar. 
He  gave  his  hand  a  slow  half-turn.  His  honor 
kicked,  his  honor  struggled,  his  honor  beat  at 
Gilmore  with  his  fist;  but  the  judicial  com- 
plexion went  purple  very  quickly,  and  the  judi- 
cial breath  became  difficult  to  draw.  When  the 
judge  was  on  the  verge  of  gurgling  strangula- 


74       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

tion,  Gilmore  released  the  bulging  neck  and 
leaned  back  against  the  table. 

'  Yuh  see  how  it  is,"  he  said  lightly,  quite  as  if 
he  had  been  demonstrating  the  best  method  of 
rolling  a  cigarette  one-handed. 

The  manhandling  to  which  he  had  been  sub- 
jected had  utterly  upset  the  judge's  physical  and 
mental  balance.  He  writhed  in  his  chair,  clutch- 
ing his  throat,  and  breathed  with  difficulty. 
Shaking  in  body  and  limb,  he  poured  himself  a 
stiff  four-fingers;  but  the  liquor  heartened  him 
not  a  whit.  Instead,  it  stimulated  his  imagina- 
tion. Certainly  the  unamiable  Mr.  Shaw  would 
be  moved  to  question  and,  later,  to  act,  when  it 
should  come  to  his  ears  that  his  foreman  had 
been  arrested  on  a  warrant  signed  by  Judge 
Trivvy. 

As  the  vision  of  the  hawk-nosed  Mr.  Shaw 
combined  with  the  lively  presence  of  the  threat- 
ening Mr.  Gilmore,  it  is  no  wonder  that  cold  ter- 
ror twanged  the  judge's  heart-strings  and  his  fat 
knees  metaphorically  turned  to  water.  Wrig- 
gling like  a  worm,  he  flapped  miserable  hands  at 
his  tormentor. 

"I  can't  sign  those  warrants!"  he  bleated. 
"You  know  I  can't!" 

"*So! "  Gilmore  observed  wearily,  and  pushed 
the  bottle  toward  the  judge.  "  Have  another. 
Yuh  need  it." 

His  honor  pettishly  thrust  the  bottle  from 
him.  Had  he  been  a  woman,  he  would  have 
wept.  As  it  was,  he  snuffled  while  playing  eeny- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       75 

meeny-miny-mo  with  the  sharp  horns  of  the 
dilemma  confronting  him. 

Beyond  a  doubt  he  would  be  shot  if  he  signed 
those  warrants.  If  he  did  not  sign  them,  he 
would  be  beaten  to  a  pulp,  probably  choked,  and 
perhaps  killed.  This  stranger  looked  like  a  man 
who  would  not  balk  at  murder.  It  was  a  lawless 
country. 

His  honor's  agonized  eyes  sought  the  window. 
In  the  street,  Lavey's  baby  was  playing  in  the 
dust.  Oh,  to  be  a  care-free  child  again!  The 
forlorn  judge  groaned  aloud  in  the  utter  misery 
of  his  soul. 

Smoky  Nivette  eyed  him  contemptuously  and 
rolled  a  cigarette.  The  impatient  Gilmore  leaned 
forward,  gripped  the  judicial  shoulders  in  his 
two  hands,  and  shook  them  vigorously. 

'  Yo're  shore  a  pore  skate  of  a  judge!"  he 
exclaimed.  "  I  heard  yuh  was  crooked  enough  to 
hide  behind  a  corkscrew,  but  I  didn't  know  yuh 
was  yellow.  Now  you  do  what  I  say — issue 
those  warrants,  an'  do  it  muy  pronto,  or  I'll  shore 
make  yuh  hard  to  find !  " 

He  flung  Judge  Triwy  from  him  and  stepped 
back.  His  honor,  huddled  in  his  chair,  goggled 
at  him. 

"  I'll— I'll "  he  stuttered,  striving  to  as- 
sert himself. 

"Yes?"  said  Gilmore,  bending  above  him. 
"You'll  do  what?" 

"  I'll  do  as  you  suggest !  "  squeaked  the  judge. 
"But " 


76       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

His  honor  clutched  the  table-edge  and  stared 
pop-eyed  at  nothing.  A  great  light  had  suddenly 
shone  upon  his  tortured  brain.  How  ridiculously 
easy  was  the  way  out!  He  was  amazed  that  he 
had  not  thought  of  it  before. 

What  if  he  did  issue  the  warrants?  The  men 
would  be  tried  before  him.  The  county  prose- 
cutor would  neither  speak  for  conviction,  nor 
would  the  jury,  packed  with  V  Up-and- 
Down  and  Hash  Knife  adherents,  convict  the 
prisoners.  All  would  go  merrily  as  a  wedding- 
bell. 

His  honor  almost  laughed  aloud.  He  even 
plucked  up  sufficient  courage  to  attempt  a  malev- 
olent glare  in  Gilmore's  direction. 

"  That's  right,  yore  honor!  "  chuckled  Gilmore. 
"  Screw  up  yore  face  thataway,  if  yuh  feel  like  it, 
but  look  me  in  the  eye  while  yuh  do  it — that  is, 
if  yuh  mean  me!" 

Without  another  word  Judge  Triwy  pulled 
out  his  table-drawer,  took  therfefrom  two  war- 
rants, and  proceeded  to  fill  them  out.  When  he 
had  signed  his  name,  he  pushed  the  documents  to- 
ward Gilmore  and  sat  up  with  a  slight  resump- 
tion of  dignity. 

"  I  shall  make  you  suffer  for  this!  "  he  declared 
in  a  tone  which  he  vainly  essayed  to  make  full, 
round,  and  rolling.  "  When  Enright  returns,  I 
shall  at  once  commit  you  for  contempt  of  court 
and  assault  and  battery." 

"  Hands  kind  of  shaky  still,  I  see,"  Gilmore 
observed  unheedingly,  reading  the  warrants. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        77 

"  But  they'll  do,  I  guess.     What's  that  about 
contempt  of  court? " 

"  You  will  know  all  about  that  when  Enright 


returns." 


"  Or  Enright  will,"  was  Gilmore's  happy  re- 
joinder. 

"  You — you "  sputtered  the  judge. 

"  Fellah,  don't  make  any  mistake,"  Gilmore 
urged  earnestly.  "  The  good  old  days  in  Glenn 
County  are  past  an'  done.  These  two  sports  " — 
he  tapped  the  warrants  with  a  lean  forefinger — 
"  are  only  a  beginnin'.  Others'll  follow  just  as 
fast  as  I  can  glom  onto  the  evidence.  Yuh 
needn't  think,  'cause  hoss-thieves  an'  rustlers 
have  been  bossin'  the  round-up  for  a  while,  that 
they  can  keep  on  a-doin'  it.  No,  sir,  not  by  a 
jugful!  There's  goin'  to  be  either  a  heap  o'  re- 
formin'  round  here  or  a  full  graveyard.  There 
ain't  anybody  livin'  can  mind  their  own  business 
better'n  I  can,  an'  this  here  is  my  business.  I'm 
just  tellin'  yuh  this  so's  yuh  won't  go  makin'  any 
fool  breaks." 

"  What  can  one  man  clo? "  the  judge  queried 
faintly. 

"  There  are  other  straight  gents  in  this  county. 
They  can't  all  be  crooked.  It  wouldn't  be  natu- 
ral. Think  it  over.  Oh,  an'  before  I  forget  it,  I 
want  to  tell  yuh  these  two  sharps  are  in  the  cala- 
boose right  now.  Yuh'll  try  'em  this  afternoon — 
better  yet,  why  not  try  'em  immediate,  an'  get  it 
all  over?  That's  the  ticket.  No  use  delay  in* 
things,  judge." 


78       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

To  hear  that  the  two  men  had  already  been 
arrested  and  lodged  in  jail,  and  that  he  was  ex- 
pected to  try  them  that  very  afternoon,  was  dis- 
tinctly disquieting. 

"  The  district  attorney  is  not  in  town,"  asserted 
the  judge.  "  He  went  to  Fort  Henderson  for  a 
week  or  ten  days." 

"  Den  she  go  wit'out  hees  pant,"  the  half-breed 
promptly  put  in.  "  I  see  bot'  pair  hang  on  hees 
line  when  we  ride  een.  I  t'ink  you  ees  one  beeg 
liar,  Meestair  Treevvy! " 

"  Perhaps,  if  Mr.  Nivette  would  step  down  to 

the  district  attorney's  office "  Gilmore  began 

tentatively,  staring  hard  at  the  judge. 

"  I  go  queeck,  un  I  breeng  heem  here  wit'  me," 
interrupted  Nivette,  and  departed  forthwith. 

Gilmore  sat  down  comfortably  on  the  table 
and  swung  his  legs.  Cheerful  as  he  looked,  he 
knew  that  he  was  in  a  peculiarly  tight  hole.  At 
any  moment  the  combined  forces  of  the  V  Up- 
and-Down  and  the  Hash  Knife  might  ride  into 
town.  In  that  event  it  would  be  doubtful  if  he 
would  ever  again  see  Louise  Stuart;  and  he 
wanted  to  see  her  very  much. 

What  a  little  vixen  she  was !  How  those  amber 
eyes  could  flash  and  sparkle!  And  her  hair! 
Never  in  his  life  had  he  seen  hair  one-quarter  so 
fine  and  soft.  In  fact,  she  was  beautiful  in  every 
way.  That  she  was  the  daughter  of  one  whose 
morals  were  apparently  worse  than  useless  did 
not  in  the  least  militate  against  the  desirableness 
of  the  girl. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        79 

He  realized  that  there  would  necessarily  be  ob- 
stacles to  surmount.  It  is  not  entirely  easy  to 
work  up  even  a  mild  friendship  with  a  girl  against 
whose  male  relatives  one  is  seeking  evidence  of 
crime.  But  Gilmore  had  been  accustomed  to  dif- 
ficulties all  his  life,  and  he  believed  firmly  in  the 
cheerful  doctrine  that  if  one  only  wants  a  thing 
hard  enough,  one  is  almost  sure  to  get  it.  The 
judge  wondered  what  the  stranger  was  smiling 
at. 

"  Dat  deestrict  attorney  she  ees  no  good  to- 
day," announced  Nivette,  entering  abruptly. 
"  She  varree  drunk.  I  pour  watair  on  heem.  I 
teeckle  hees  nose.  She  lie  dere  lak  one  peeg.  Un 
'nodder  t'ing.  Een  Lane's  plass,  when  I  go  by,  I 
hear  two,  free  talk  to  odder  man,  un  I  t'ink,  by 
gar,  dey  mean  to  tak'  de  prisonair  un  turn  dem 
loose.  Dat  ees  what  I  t'ink." 

At  these  bits  of  news  the  judge  brightened  per- 
ceptibly. Gilmore  looked  at  him. 

"  Sounds  good  to  yuh,  huh? "  he  drawled. 
"  Well,  you  just  come  trottin'  along  with  me,  an' 
we'll  see  what  it  amounts  to." 

The  judge  did  not  wish  to  go.  He  much  pre- 
ferred remaining  where  there  was  no  likelihood  of 
a  stray  bullet  putting  an  end  to  his  sinful  life. 
That  lead  would  fly  was  an  assured  thing.  He 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  customers  frequent- 
ing Lane's  place,  and  none  of  them  was  a  gentle 
soul. 

The  judge  quaked.  He  found  difficulty  in 
standing,  but  Gilmore  heaved  him  erect. 


8o       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  I  guess  now  there  won't  be  any  trial  this 
afternoon,"  said  Gilmore  to  Nivette.  "  I'll  keep 
the  prisoners  in  jail  to-day,  an'  to-morrow  I'll 
take  'em  over  to  Beardance.  The  calaboose  there 
sounds  kind  of  safer.  No  need  of  temptin'  these 
hold-ups." 

"  Tak'  dem  to  Beardance!"  exclaimed  Ni- 
vette. "'Why " 

"  Shore,  Beardance  is  good  as  any,"  Gilmore 
insisted,  one  eyelid  drooped  in  a  slow  wink. 

Smoky  Nivette  forbore  to  demur  further.  He 
thought  he  understood  what  lay  behind  Gil- 
more's  words,  but  he  was  not  sure.  The  deputy 
was  a  surprising  person  in  many  ways. 

Gilmore,  dragging  the  judge  along  by  a  limp 
wrist,  went  out  into  the  street.  Nivette  followed. 
Gilmore  turned  his  head  quickly. 

"  This  ain't  really  any  o'  yore  business,  Mr. 
Nivette,"  he  said.  "  It  ain't  a  heap  necessary  for 
yuh  to  ride  this  trail  any  farther." 

"  I  go  wit'  you,"  observed  Nivette.  "  Sam 
Kyle,  she  was  my  frien',  un  de  man  what  keell 
heem  should  be  punish'.  Dese  prisonair,  dey  may 
wan'  for  shoot  you  een  de  back.  I  watch  dem 
varree  sharp ! " 

"  I'm  obliged,"  grinned  Gilmore,  and  went  on 
his  way  toward  Lane's  place. 

The  deputy  had  already  come  to  feel  that  he 
could  trust  Smoky  Nivette,  and  it  was  pleasant 
to  know  that  on  this  risky  expedition  the  half- 
breed  would  be  on  guard  at  his  rear. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  deputy  recognized  the  difficulties  of  the 
situation,  but  he  had  no  qualms  regarding  his 
coming  meeting  with  the  would-be  rescuers.  He 
possessed  a  tolerably  large  measure  of  self-confi- 
dence, and  the  course  he  was  pursuing  was  the 
only  logical  one.  Why  should  he  doubt? 

As  he  dragged  Judge  Trivvy  down  the  street, 
his  progress  did  not  go  unmarked.  Heads  pro- 
truded from  windows,  men  lounged  into  door- 
ways, or  started  to  stroll,  elaborately  uncon- 
cerned, in  the  same  direction.  In  front  of  Lane's 
place,  which  was  next  door  to  the  jail,  Gilmore 
released  the  judge's  wrist. 

"  Have  a  seat,"  he  said  kindly,  and  deposited 
the  well-nigh  palsied  jurist  on  one  of  the  benches 
flanking  the  door.  "  I'd  take  it  as  a  favor  if 
yuh'd  wait  outside  for  me,"  he  added  to  Nivette, 
and  quietly  entered  the  saloon. 

The  bar  was  crowded.  So  were  the  two  card- 
tables;  but  no  one  was  drinking,  no  one  was 
playing.  All  were  listening  to  what  was  being 
said  by  a  short  man  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  This  man's  back  was  toward  the  door,  but 
Gilmore  perceived  that  he  wore  two  guns  tied 


82       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

down.  The  short  person  spoke  with  great  vigor, 
dashing  oaths  about  with  fluent  abandon,  and 
beating  the  palm  of  one  hand  with  the  doubled 
fist  of  the  other.  Gilmore  halted  just  inside  the 
door. 

"  You  all  know  me,"  the  speaker  was  saying. 
"  An'  I  ask  yuh,  who'll  make  a  better  sheriff?  I 
won't  make  no  mistake.  I  won't  go  arrestin'  town 
marshals  an'  V  Up-an'-Down  foremen.  Just  to 
show  yuh,  I'm  goin'  down  right  now  an'  turn 
loose  them  two  prisoners,  like  I  told  yuh,  an' 
after  that  I'm  a-goin'  to  run  that  young  squirt  of 
a  deputy  out  o'  town." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  nothin'  rash,"  suggested  a 
calm  voice  in  his  immediate  rear. 

The  short  man's  mouth  remained  open.  His 
two  hands  remained  poised  in  mid-air.  He  did 
not  dare  to  reach  for  his  guns,  for  of  course  the 
other  man  had  the  drop. 

Gilmore  laughed.  He  knew  what  was  pass- 
ing in  the  enemy's  mind.  He  had  not  drawn  his 
gun,  but  he  wasted  no  time  in  foolhardy  dilly- 
dallying. He  took  two  swift  strides  forward, 
gripped  the  abbreviated  citizen  by  his  collar  and 
the  slack  of  his  gun-belt,  and  heaved  him  bodily 
through  the  doorway. 

With  a  smashing  crash  and  splash,  the  human 
comet  hit  the  watering-trough,  and  Gilmore  faced 
about.  His  twinkling  eyes  and  fixed,  sardonic 
smile  played  over  the  assemblage.  No  one  moved 
for  the  length  of  time  required  by  a  strong  man 
to  draw  three  breaths.  Then  some  one  turned 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       83 

to  the  bar  and  called  for  drinks.  The  spell  was 
broken,  and  business  was  resumed  as  usual. 

Gilmore  walked  out.  Keen  perception  was 
not  required  to  tell  him  that  he  had  not  yet  done 
with  this  crowd.  It  would  require  more  than  the 
mere  hurling  of  one  man  into  the  watering- trough 
to  bring  it  to  heel ;  but  it  had  been  surprised  into 
quiescence  for  the  time  being,  and  all  that  he 
required  for  the  proper  furtherance  of  his  plans 
was  a  little  time. 

Amid  the  ruins  of  the  watering-trough  the 
short  man  lay  unconscious  and  breathing  stertor- 
ously.  A  little  group  of  citizens  surrounded  the 
inert  body.  One  man  was  kneeling,  his  fingers 
employed  in  searching  for  possible  injuries.  The 
judge,  clinging  like  a  limpet  to  his  bench,  stared 
as  if  fascinated.  Nivette  stood  a  little  to  one 
side  where,  if  circumstances  demanded,  his  six- 
shooter  would  have  a  free  sweep. 

Across  the  street  Shorty  Damman  sat  on  the 
front  step  of  his  hotel.  Shorty's  main  points  of 
interest  were  his  air  of  complete  detachment  and 
a  Sharp's  buffalo-gun. 

Gilmore  walked  into  the  handful  of  men 
gathered  about  the  man  he  had  handled,  and 
glanced  down  at  the  unconscious  face.  Red- 
headed, red-mustached,  and  red-goateed,  the  fel- 
low appeared  to  be  a  hard  customer.  A  thin 
trickle  of  blood  showed  where  a  four-inch  cut  had 
laid  open  his  scalp. 

*  Is  he  busted  bad?  "  questioned  Gilmore. 

"  Only  his  head,  I  guess,"  the  kneeling  citizen 


84       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

replied  shortly.  "  Take  his  legs,  Bill,  will 
yuh? " 

They  picked  up  the  red-headed  man  and  de- 
parted, a  scuffling,  side-swaying  procession. 
Gilmore  turned  to  the  judge. 

"  Yuh  better  trot  along  after,  yore  honor,"  he 
remarked,  flicking  a  thumb  in  the  direction  taken 
by  the  carriers  and  their  burden.  *  Yore  friend 
might  feel  like  swearin'  out  a  warrant." 

So  saying,  Gilmore,  followed  by  Smoky 
Nivette,  walked  across  the  street  to  Shorty  Dam- 
man's  hotel.  When  they  entered  the  barroom, 
Shorty  was  just  hanging  the  buffalo-gun  on  its 
hooks  behind  the  bar. 

"  Nothin'  like  a  Sharp's,"  he  remarked,  scratch- 
ing his  ear.  "  She  don't  scatter  like  a  shotgun, 
an'  she  don't  shoot  as  often  as  a  Winchester,  but 
she  shore  does  put  in  the  biggest  period.  What'll 
yuh  have,  gents?  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

GILMORE,  well  knowing  that  his  life  rested  in 
his  holster,  went  to  call  on  the  district  attorney 
at  four  o'clock.  He  was  hoping  against  hope 
that  Nivette's  diagnosis  had  been  too  pessimistic; 
but  the  half-breed  had  made  no  mistake.  The 
county  prosecutor,  tied  down  in  his  bed,  was 
alternately  yowling  frantically,  wailing  pitifully, 
and  begging  some  one  to  take  away  the  faunal 
phenomena  that  he  saw  disporting  themselves  on 
the  ceiling. 

Gilmore  withdrew  after  one  look  and  returned 
to  his  old  friend  the  judge,  with  whom  Nivette 
was  keeping  company  in  his  house.  The  half- 
breed  did  not  remove  his  feet  from  the  table  when 
Gilmore  entered.  He  merely  winked  a  saturnine 
eye,  and  remarked  that  the  judge  had  tried  to 
escape. 

Gilmore  glanced  at  the  judge,  who  sat  de- 
jectedly in  the  corner  farthest  from  Nivette. 
His  feet  were  made  fast  to  the  chair-legs,  and  his 
hands  were  tied  behind  his  back.  The  jurist 
essayed  to  speak,  but  could  only  gurgle  unin- 
telligibly. Gilmore  freed  him  and  helped  him 
across  to  the  big  chair  beside  the  table.  He 
seemed  frightened  to  death. 


86       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"What  did  yuh  do  to  him?"  demanded  Gil- 
more. 

"  She  try  for  escape,"  explained  Nivette,  "  un 
I  have  my  rope.  I  rope  heem,  un  I  beat  heem 
leetle,  leetle,  not  'nough  to  hurt  one  leetle  baby. 
Den  I  tie  heem.  Dat  ees  all." 

"Ain't  yuh  gettin'  into  this  thing  kind  o' 
deep?" 

The  half-breed  removed  his  cigarette  from  his 
mouth. 

"  Dees  judge,"  he  said,  "  ees  one  bad  man,  all 
same  horse-t'ief  un  rustler,  lak  Sleem,  un  de  mar- 
shal, un  Jack  Shaw,  un  dat  Stuart  gang,  un  de 
Lazy  D  outfeet — oh,  dey  are  all  bad!  I  know. 
Well,  den,  you  come.  I  see  you  begin  for  stop 
de  shenanigan.  You  arrest  Sleem  un  de  marshal. 
You  tak'  Red  Hall  by  de  collar  un  de  pant,  un 
you  t'row  heem  out  un  bus'  hees  haid.  I  see  what 
I  see.  I  know  what  I  know.  Un  I  know  you 
weel  mak'  de  clean-up  een  Glenn  County.  Dat 
ees  why  eet  does  not  matter  what  I  do  to  de  judge. 
She  cannot  have  me  arrest'.  She  do  not  mak'  de 
law.  You  mak'  de  law.  I  see  it  plain  now.  I 
ride  wit'  you,  my  frien'." 

"  I  can't  appoint  you  a  deputy." 

"  I  do  not  wan'  for  be  deputy.  I  do  more  eef 
I  am  not  deputy." 

"  But  yore  wages " 

"Dam'  de  money!  By  gar,  I  have  some 
money — leetle,  not  much.  When  you  have 
brought  de  law  un  de  ordair,  den  I  weel  start  de 
freight-wagon  line  from  Virgin  City  to  de  rail- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       87 

road,  un  I  weel  mak'  much  money.  Long  time 
I  have  wan'  for  do  dat,  but  pas  de^  chance!  Too 
many  t'ief.  But  now  you  come  for  drive  out  de 
t'ief .  I  be  fool  eef  I  not  help  you.  Also  dere 
ees  somet'ing  you  forget,  mabbeso.  Sam  Kyle 
was  my  frien',  un  Sleem  Dennison  ees  not  dead. 
De  men  behin'  Sleem,  dey  are  not  dead.  You 
see  now? " 

Gilmore  said  nothing,  but  he  stretched  out  his 
arm  and  shook  hands  with  the  half-breed.  The 
latter  smiled  after  the  fashion  of  the  cat  which 
contemplates  a  meal  of  fat  canary.  Judge 
Trivvy,  observing  it,  shuddered. 

"  Yore  honor,"  Gilmore  said,  "  it  seems  like 
luck  is  with  yuh — now.  Owin'  to  the  district 
attorney  seein'  things,  the  case  of  '  People  versus 
Slim  Dennison  an'  Tim  Simms,'  can't  be  opened 
to-day.  But  maybe,  it's  just  as  well.  Maybe 
Plain  Edge  ain't  just  the  place  to  try  this  case, 
after  all.  The  climate  in  Beardance  may  be  a 
mite  healthier.  So  I'm  takin'  'em  there  to-mor- 
row aft'noon.  Whenever  yo're  ready,  scamper 
over  an'  try  'em.  Just  write  me  here  or  at  Vir- 
gin City,  an'  I'll  be  on  hand  with  witnesses. 
Yuh  understand  it  all  plain,  don't  yuh,  yore 
honor?  " 

His  honor  thought  he  did.  The  removal  of 
the  prisoners  to  Beardance  would  make  matters 
much  easier  for  the  judge;  for  the  Hash  Knife 
and  the  V  Up-and-Down  were  strong  in  Bear- 
dance.  The  prisoners  would  be  rescued  with 
ease  before  the  opening  of  the  trial. 


88       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

The  judicial  breath  became  freer.  The  atmos- 
phere was  not  so  oppressive  as  it  had  been.  He 
assured  the  deputy  of  his  hearty  concurrence  in 
any  move  that  Gilmore  saw  fit  to  make. 

"  I'm  glad  yuh  look  at  it  that  way,"  the  deputy 
observed  dryly.  "  Do  yuh  know,  though,  I  kind 
o'  thought  yuh  would!  " 

There  was  a  certain  grimness  underlying  the 
words  that  tended  to  renew  the  judge's  feeling  of 
helplessness.  He  was  overjoyed  when  Gilmore 
and  the  wily  Nivette  started  toward  the  door. 

Before  they  reached  it,  it  was  flung  crashingly 
open,  and  a  tremendously  tall  man  with  a  scar 
on  his  chin  stood  in  the  doorway.  He  wore  the 
star  of  a  deputy  and  one  gun  tied  down.  His 
thumbs  were  hooked  into  his  belt,  and  his  washed- 
out  gray  eyes  roved  with  questioning  surliness 
from  Gilmore  to  Nivette,  from  Nivette  to  Judge 
Trivvy. 

*  What's  this  I  hear  about  Slim  Dennison  an' 
Tim  Simms  bein'  arrested? "  he  demanded 
quietly  of  the  judge. 

'  Yuh  heard  they're  in  the  calaboose,"  Gil- 
more  answered  for  the  other.  "  Yuh  heard  cor- 
rect. They're  there,  an'  they  stay  there  till  I 
choose  to  move  'em." 

The  mouth  of  the  scar-chinned  man  tightened 
till  the  lips  went  white.  His  eyes  narrowed  to 
two  pin-points  of  light. 

"  Till  you  choose!  "  he  said  slowly.  "An'  who 
might  you  be?" 

Gilmore  told  him  diffidently,  almost  timidly. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       89 

He  even  shuffled  backward  a  foot  or  two.  The 
eyes  of  the  other  widened  slightly.  He  stepped 
quickly  up  to  Gilmore  and  stood  looking  down 
into  the  smaller  man's  eyes.  The  bright  blue 
eyes  wavered  and  dropped  the  fraction  of  an  inch. 

Nivette,  puzzled  at  his  friend's  apparent  lack 
of  nerve,  frowned — frowned  till  he  happened  to 
notice  the  position  of  Gilmore's  feet  on  the  floor. 
Then  he  smiled  a  pleased  smile. 

"  Young  feller,"  the  tall  man  growled  in  a 
harsh,  incisive  tone,  tapping  Gilmore  on  the  chest 
with  a  crooked  forefinger;  "young  feller,  yuh 
can't  run  no  blazers  in  this  county,  see!  There's 
only  one  deputy  around  here,  an'  that's  me — Dick 
Enright.  I'm  goin'  to  throw  them  men  loose 
right  now,  an'  I'm  a-goin'  to  take  yore  star  away 
from  yuh.  A  chicken-liver  like  you  ain't  fit  to 
wear  it!" 

He  made  a  motion  to  seize  the  star  on  Gil- 
more's lapel.  The  stretching  fingers  barely 
touched  the  metal,  however,  for  Gilmore's  right 
fist,  starting  from  below  the  hip,  flashed  upward, 
and  with  all  Gilmore's  weight  behind  it  struck 
the  scar-chinned  man  under  the  left  ear. 

Lifted  fairly  off  his  feet,  Enright  described  a 
ragged  parabola  and  landed  on  his  head  on  a 
chair.  This  broke  his  fall  to  some  extent,  but 
the  chair  was  reduced  to  its  component  parts. 
Gilmore  blew  upon  his  knuckles,  gave  his  chaps  a 
hitch,  and  proceeded  to  search  the  senseless  Mr. 
Enright  with  thoroughness.  Excluding  mean- 
ingless personal  belongings,  the  sole  result  of  the 


90        The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

search  was  a  playing-card,  the  ace  of  spades,  the 
face  of  which  bore  a  scribbled  memorandum. 
This  he  read  with  surprised  interest  before  trans- 
ferring it  to  an  inside  vest-pocket. 

When  he  was  satisfied  that  Enright  was  con- 
cealing nothing  else  of  any  importance  about  his 
person,  Gilmore  hastened  the  passing  of  time  by 
wetting  him  down  with  bucketful  upon  bucketful 
of  water  brought  from  the  judge's  well.  Nivette, 
the  Gallic  side  of  him  rejoiced  beyond  measure, 
assisted  with  enthusiasm  at  the  drenching. 

"  By  gar,"  chuckled  the  half-breed,  "  when  you 
wus  act  scare,  I  do  not  know  what  to  t'ink. 
Den  I  see  how  you'  right  foot  was  stand  way 
behin'  de  lef  on  de  floor,  iin  how  you'  right 
shoulder  was  drop  leetle,  un  den  I  know  what  was 
goin'  happen.  By  gar,  Deeck  Enright  she  weigh 
two  hundred  poun'  easy,  un  you  leef  heem  clean 
off  floor  lak  she  was  nottin'  't  all.  You  heet  lak 
de  mule  keeck.  I  am  glad  you  are  my  frien'. 
By  gar,  I  am !  " 

Nivette  whooped  with  a  fresh  attack  of  merri- 
ment and  inadvertently  emptied  his  bucket  into 
the  judge's  lap.  Entered  then  upon  this  scene 
of  chaotic  dampness  Shorty  Damman.  The 
wispy  one  tilted  his  hat  and  reflectively  scratched 
an  ear. 

"  I  just  come  down  to  tell  yuh,"  he  remarked, 
"  that  Dick  Enright  was  back,  an'  was  yowlin' 
round  'bout  what  he's  a-goin'  to  do  to  folks  he 
don't  like.  But  I  see  yo're  a-puttin'  Dick's  fire 
out,  all  right.  Howdy,  judge?  Looks  like 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        91 

Plain  Edge  is  a-goin'  to  witness  times,  don't  it? 
What  do  you  guess?  " 

But  the  judge  was  not  guessing,  and  the 
neighborly  Mr.  Damman  went  back  to  his  hotel, 
after  assuring  the  deputy  that  if  trouble  arose 
he  and  a  few  friends  would  back  Gilmore  and 
Nivette  to  the  limit. 

"  What  I  tell  you?  "  exclaimed  the  half-breed, 
when  the  hotel-keeper  had  gone.  "  What  I  tell 
you?  Shorty,  she  ees  good  feller,  you  bet. 
What  you  t'ink,  dees  feller  Deeck  Enright  she 
need  more  water? " 

When  Enright  came  to,  he  was  impressed  by 
the  fact  that  his  world  was  composed  of  a  heav- 
ing floor  and  a  pain  in  the  head.  Following  sev- 
eral efforts,  he  contrived  to  sit  upright.  Gingerly 
he  caressed  the  lump  on  his  frontal  bone.  His 
aching  eyes  finally  rested  on  Gilmore,  who  was 
sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  nonchalantly 
swinging  his  legs  and  fingering  Enright's  own 
gun. 

"  Glad  to  see  yo're  feelin'  like  old  times  again," 
Gilmore  observed  genially.  "  Yuh  won't  know 
yuh'd  ever  been  hit,  come  to-morrow." 

"  Gimme  my  gun,  an'  I'll  show  yuhl  "  Enright 
grunted  thickly. 

"  Shore  yuh  will !  Don't  doubt  it  for  a  minute. 
You  look  like  yuh  were  a  hard  gent,  a  real  bad 
man;  but  yo're  careless,  terrible  careless.  That's 
why  I'm  a-keepin'  yore  gun.  Don't  want  yuh  to 
go  hurtin'  yoreself  with  it." 

"I'll  kill  you  on  sight!" 


92       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  My,  my,  how  fierce  we  are  to-day!  But  be- 
fore yuh  go  shootin'  up  a  pore  innocent  little 
orphan  fellah  like  me,  just  think — is  it  worth 
while?  Yuh  see,  Enright,  I  don't  care  a. thing 
about  bein'  shot  up — personal,  that  is,  I  don't. 
But  I'm  a  deputy;  an'  bein'  that  I  just  gotta 
beef  anybody  that  cuts  down  on  me  with  a  gun. 
No  two  ways  about  it,  I  just  gotta.  Yuh  see 
how  it  is — I  can't  help  myself.  An'  I  wish  yuh'd 
be  a  good  fellah  an'  go  slow.  I'd  take  it  as  a  real 
favor  if  yuh  would." 

Nivette  snickered.  Enright  did  not  even 
grunt.  He  was  too  angry.  After  a  time  Gil- 
more  slid  from  the  table. 

"Able  to  walk,  Enright? "  he  queried  tenderly. 
"  If  yuh  are,  we'll  go  down  to  the  calaboose.  I 
got  somethin'  I  want  to  show  yuh." 

"  I'll  go,"  the  partly  rejuvenated  Enright 
snarled  through  writhing  lips.  "  I'll  go,  'cause 
I  gotta!  But  I'll  getcha,  feller!  I'll  getcha  if 
it  takes  a  hundred  years !  " 

"  Now  where  have  I  heard  that  remark  be- 
fore? "  Gilmore  chuckled.  "  But  there's  no  sense 
in  bein'  mean,  Mr.  Enright.  Why  not  make  it 
a  thousand  years?  Yuh  got  all  the  time  there 


is." 


Enright  did  not  reply.  He  passed  out 
stumblingly  into  the  street. 

With  Enright  slightly  in  the  lead — this  that 
he  might  not  be  tempted  to  snatch  at  the  weapons 
swinging  at  his  captors'  belts — the  three  walked 
slowly  along  the  street. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        93 

"  Yuh  can  stop  here,"  said  Gilmore,  when  they 
arrived  in  front  of  the  calaboose.  t- 

The  wondering  Enright  obeyed.  Gilmore 
strode  quickly  to  the  side  of  the  street,  stooped, 
and  returned  with  an  empty  sardine-can.  This 
he  hurled  straight  up  into  the  air,  and  fanned  his 
gun  at  it.  The  battered  piece  of  tin  fell  almost 
at  Enright's  feet. 

By  this  time  there  was  quite  a  crowd  of  Plain 
Edgers  looking  on,  and  more  were  coming. 
Shorty  Damman  and  his  friends,  standing  in 
front  of  the  hotel,  nudged  one  another  in  the  ribs 
and  grinned  delightedly.  They  did  not  like 
Dick  Enright. 

Nivette  came  forward  and  picked  up  the  sar- 
dine-can. There  were  six  holes  in  it.  He  held 
the  can  before  Enright's  sullen  eyes.  The  deputy 
sneered  and  started  to  walk  away. 

"  Wait,"  commanded  Gilmore,  and  Enright 
turned  back.  "  Chuck  her  up  again,  will  yuh, 
Smoky?  "he  added. 

The  half-breed  complied.  Again  Gilmore 
fanned  a  six-shooter — Enright's  own  gun,  this 
time;  but  now,  when  the  can  fell,  it  no  longer 
bore  the  remotest  resemblance  to  a  container  for 
fish. 

"  There's  no  tellin'  how  often  I  hit  it  this  trip," 
drawled  Gilmore;  "  but  yuh  can  take  it,  Enright, 
that  I  come  pretty  close." 

"  Yes,  yuh  did,  all  right,"  muttered  Enright, 
and  with  a  catlike  spring  he  launched  his  huge 
body  at  Gilmore. 


94       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

There  was  a  twinkling  flash  from  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Gilmore's  neck,  and  Enright  staggered 
back,  clutching  his  left  shoulder.  Gilmore  stood 
quietly,  a  nine-inch  bowie-knife  in  his  hand. 
From  the  point  blood  dripped  slowly  into  the 
dust  of  the  street. 

"  That's  the  second  time  yuh  made  a  mistake 
about  me,  Enright,"  Gilmore  observed  dis- 
passionately. "  Just  'cause  I  emptied  my  gun 
an'  yores  ain't  a  sign  that  I'm  out  on  a  limb. 
Yuh  poor  fool,  what  do  yuh  s'pose  I  did  this  kid's 
trick  o'  shootin'  at  a  can  for?  To  show  yuh  I 
could  fan  a  gun,  or  to  draw  yuh  on — which? 
Enright,  yuh've  misguessed  me  twice.  The  third 
time  ought  to  be  the  charm." 

Enright  made  no  rejoinder.  He  was  too 
greatly  occupied  in  stanching  the  knife-cut  in  his 
upper  arm.  Smiling  his  fixed,  peculiar  smile, 
Gilmore  swung  his  eyes  from  amused  contempla- 
tion of  Enright  to  the  crowd  in  front  of  Lane's 
place.  He  stood  for  a  moment,  and  then  went 
to  the  corral  to  see  if  all  was  as  it  should  be  with 
the  horses. 

"  Say,  what  you  mean  by  savin'  we  tak'  de 
prisonair  to  Beardance  to-morrow?  "  inquired  the 
puzzled  Nivette.  "  By  gar,  Beardance  ees  not 
safe  for  leave  dem,  un  eef  we  wait  teel  to-morrow 
you  un  me  weel  not  go  't  all." 

'  Why  do  yuh  s'pose  I  told  the  judge  in  the 
first  place?"  countered  Gilmore.  "If  I  was 
goin'  to  Beardance,  he'd  be  the  last  fellah  I'd 
tell,  wouldn't  he?  I  told  him  we  were  goin'  to 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        95 

slide  out  for  Beardance  to-morrow  because  you 
an'  I  an'  the  prisoners  are  goin'  to  pull  our  freight 
for  Warrior's  Mark  to-night." 

"Ah,  now  I  see ! "  exclaimed  the  enlightened 
Nivette. 

"  Even  waitin'  till  to-night  ain't  any  more 
popular  with  me  than  it  is  with  you,"  continued 
Gilmore;  "  but  we  gotta  do  it.  Can't  afford  to 
take  the  prisoners  out  o'  town  in  plain  sight  o' 
their  friends.  We  just  gotta  risk  the  Hash 
Knife  boys  gettin'  here  first." 

"  Dey  should  be  here  now." 

"  I  know  it ;  but  they  ain't,  an'  we  are.  All  we 
gotta  clo  is  not  fret,  keep  our  heads  up,  an'  lean 
back  a  little.  Are  you  me?  " 

"  I  am  you,  but " 

"  Remember  what  I  said  'bout  not  frettin'  any 
now.  Here,  what  do  yuh  think  o'  this  bit  o'  light 
readin'?" 

He  held  out  to  Nivette  the  playing-card  he  had 
taken  from  Dick  Enright.  The  scribbled  lines 
of  the  memorandum  above  the  black  pip  read: 

no  X  15  =  1,650 
1,650  -4-   2  =    825 

Below  the  pip  they  ran: 

I.  O.  U.  $825 
T.J. 

"Well,  what  do  dis  mean?"  questioned  Nivette, 
raising  mystified  eyes. 

"  What  are  cows  bringin'  now?"  was  Gilmore's 
rejoinder. 


96       The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Fourteen,  fifteen,  sixteen — roun'  dere,  I 
guess." 

"  For  a  hundred  an'  ten  cows  at  fifteen  a 
fellah' d  get  sixteen  an'  fifty  dollars,  wouldn't  he? 
Well,  then,  s'pose  he  divided  the  same  with  an- 
other gent?  Still  ramblin'  along  on  our  sup- 
posin'  way,  if  he  didn't  feel  like  handin'  over  the 
eight  hundred  an'  a  quarter,  he'd  write  out  an 
I.  O.  U.  for  the  dinero  an'  give  it  to  him, 
wouldn't  he? " 

"  M,abbeso— yes." 

"  Good.  I  guess  yo're  beginnin'  to  see  what 
I  see.  Is  Tom  Johnson  o'  the  Lazy  D  friends 
with  this  Enright  hold-up? " 

"  Eef  she  ees,  she  keep  quiet  'bout  eet.  She 
all  time  varree  good  frien's  wit'  de  Hash  Knife 
un  de  V  Up-un-Down." 

"  Even  so,  these  here  initials  '  T.  J.'  in  En- 
right's  possession  don't  grow  on  every  bush. 
They  might  stand  for  Tessie  Jones,  a  hasher  I 
knew  once  over  in  Omaha,  only  they  ain't  in 
Tessie's  handwritin'.  All  this  bein'  plain  to  the 
naked  eye,  I'm  gamblin'  it'll  help  to  clear  the  air 
if  the  reason  for  T.  J.'s  givin'  an  I.  O.  U.  to 
Dick  Enright  was  looked  into.  There's  no  use 
o'  talkin',  the  law  has  got  to  be  above  suspicion, 
especially  when  cows  are  sellin'  at  fifteen  dollars 
a  head.  We  can't  have  T.  J.  corruptin'  our 
county  officers.  It  ain't  any  way  to  act  at  all. 
No,  sir,  I  guess  now  I  better  go  pay  this  T.  J.  a 
visit  at  the  Lazy  D." 

"  I  will  go,  too." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       97 

"  Yuh  will  not.  I'm  obliged  to  yuh,  Smoky; 
but  this  is  just  goin'  to  be  a  little, friendly  call — 
nothin'  serious  at  all.  Yuh  can  gamble  an'  go 
the  limit  Mr.  Johnson  an*  me  will  get  along  just 
as  comfortable  as  two  heifers  an'  a  fence-post. 
Yuh  wait  an'  see!" 

"  I  guess  I  see  all  right,"  muttered  Nivette. 
"  I  guess  I  see  what  I  do  not  wan'  for  see, 
mabbeso." 

But  Gilmore  only  laughed  at  him. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THAT  his  position  was  sufficiently  perilous  Gil- 
more  realized  perfectly  well;  but  it  did  not  in 
the  least  affect  his  demeanor  or  prevent  him  from 
taking  a  chair  on  the  narrow  strip  of  porch  in 
front  of  the  hotel  and  making  himself  comfort- 
able in  the  full  rays  of  the  westering  sun.  There 
he  sat  and  joyously  whistled  most  of  his  repertory 
of  tunes.  Red  Hall,  still  somewhat  shaky  in  the 
knees,  heard  him  where  he  sat  in  a  friend's 
kitchen. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  my  head  stops  whirlin',"  as- 
serted Red,  "  I'm  a-goin'  to  take  a  shotgun  an' 
canter  out  an'  bust  him  wide  open." 

"  I  would,"  was  the  friend's  sarcastic  com- 
ment. "  I  shore  would;  but  I  wouldn't  do  it  to- 
day, nor  yet  to-morrow.  To  tell  yuh  the  truth, 
the  farther  off  yuh  set  that  job  the  better  she 
sounds.  You  was  lyin'  down  in  here,  so  yuh 
didn't  see  him  flip  a  knife  into  Dick.  Well,  I 
didn't  see  him,  neither,  an'  I  wasn't  thirty  foot 
off,  with  my  eyes  clamped  on  the  pair  of  'em. 
But  the  knife  slipped  into  Dick  all  right.  That 
gent  is  one  slow  flash  o'  lightnin'.  I  don't  mind 
a  gun.  I'll  go  ag'in'  the  iron  any  time  I  gotta, 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D        99 

but  I  ain't  carin'  just  nothin'  at  all  about  a  knife, 
an'  that's  whatever!" 

"  I'm  a-goin  to  get  him,"  insisted  the  stubborn 
Red. 

"  Six  o'  Enright's  friends  are  goin'  to  try  it 
to-night." 

"They  are?" 

"  Shore — 'bout  three  or  four  in  the  mornin', 
when  him  an'  that  breed  friend  o'  his  are  sleepin' 
sound.  Oh,  they'll  get  him  all  right!  I'm  for 
gettin'  him,  but  not  that  way.  I  say,  give  him  a 
short  run  for  his  money.  Call  him  out  in  the 
street,  f'r  instance,  an'  then  blow  him  apart;  but 
that  don't  strike  them  as  no  way  to  do  it." 

"Any  way's  good,"  Red  persisted  vindictively. 

"  Perhaps,"  returned  the  friend,  "but  yuh  hear 
me  talkin'.  That  feller's  a  long  way  from  dead, 
an'  I  don't  want  nothin'  to  do  with  rubbin'  him 
out,  not  nohow." 

Red  grunted  sulkily.  He  would  have  enjoyed 
frying  Mr.  Gilmore  in  oil.  Oh,  what  a  head- 
ache! 

That  night  Slim  Dennison,  who  had  been 
sleeping  for  several  hours,  sat  upright  with  a 
jerk.  There  was  a  struggle  going  on  in  the 
sheriff's  old  room.  The  partition  was  of  squared 
logs,  but  he  could  plainly  hear  the  stamp  and  go 
of  feet  and  the  hard-drawn  breathing  of  wrestling 
men.  Dennison  knew  that  Gilmore  and  Nivette 
were  both  in  there,  or  had  been,  for  he  had  heard 
their  voices  before  he  fell  asleep.  He  shook 
Simms  awake,  and  together  they  listened  tensely. 


ioo      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

:<  They're  a-goin'  to  rescue  us,  all  right,"  said 
the  marshal. 

"  Shore,  but  who  is  they?  " 

"  It  ain't  the  Hash  Knife  or  the  boys  from 
Virgin  City.  They'd  shoot  ail'  be  done  with  it. 
It  must  be  our  friends  here." 

"  I  guess.  Wish  they'd  hurry.  My  wrists  is 
wore  clean  through  with  these  blamed  cuffs.  If 
I  ever  get  a-holt  o'  that  Gilmore!  " 

"  He'll  be  cashed  by  then.     Listen!  " 

Smack!  Thud!  a  heavy  body  fell  to  the  floor. 
Something  was  dragged  across  the  boards. 

"  They're  a-takin'  the  remainders  out,"  chuckled 
Slim. 

The  marshal  swore  with  pleasure. 

Returning  footsteps  sounded  in  the  other  room. 
The  door  between  it  and  the  jail  proper  was 
quietly  unbarred  and  opened.  In  the  dim  light 
cast  by  a  shaded  lantern  on  the  table  the  two 
prisoners  could  see  a  man  attired  in  a  slicker. 
His  hat  was  pulled  low  over  his  forehead,  and  a 
blue  bandanna  handkerchief  with  staring  eye- 
holes concealed  his  face.  The  masked  man  stood 
in  the  doorway,  beckoning. 

"  Come  on,  boys !  "  he  said  in  a  husky  whisper. 
"  Let's  get  out  o'  this!" 

The  two  prisoners  pushed  into  the  other  room. 
The  masked  man  was  already  at  the  outer  door. 

"Take  off  these  cuffs,  friend!"  called  the 
marshal. 

"  Shhh!"  The  masked  one  wheeled  quickly, 
his  hand  up. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      101 

"Take  'em  off!  What's  the  matter  with 
yuh?" 

"  Shut  up,  you  idjits!"  came  the  husky  re- 
joinder. "  Yore  cuffs'll  have  to  be  filed.  The 
keys  ain't  on  Nivette.  I  searched  him  careful 
after  I  carved  him  an'  drug  him  outside.  But 
Gilmore's  round  some'eres.  The  rest  o'  the 
bunch  are  lookin'  for  him  now.  Anyhow,  just 
to  save  trouble,  we've  decided  to  take  you  fellers 
out  o'  town  till  Gilmore's  been  got.  He's  too 
slippery  a  jack  to  risk  anythin'  with.  So  follow 
me  close  an'  don't  make  no  noise." 

The  prisoners  were  in  no  mood  to  demur  at 
anything.  At  that  moment  their  one  burning 
desire  in  life  was  to  get  out  of  jail.  Quietly  they 
followed  the  masked  man  out  beyond  the  picket- 
line  of  tin  cans  encircling  the  town. 

Their  guide  led  them  unerringly  to  where  a 
dark  mass  blocked  their  advance.  The  dark  mass 
proved  to  be  a  man  and  four  horses.  The  night 
was  too  black  for  the  man's  features  to  be  dis- 
tinguished. The  masked  one  and  his  comrade 
assisted  the  handcuffed  men  to  mount,  mounted 
themselves,  took  each  a  prisoner's  bridle,  and  rode 
off  at  a  walk. 

Several  times  Slim  Dennison  and  the  marshal 
essayed  to  open  a  conversation,  but  their  efforts 
met  with  no  encouragement.  Huskily  whispered 
monosyllables  were  their  portion,  till  finally,  after 
several  miles  had  been  covered,  they  became  sus- 
picious. 

"  Say,  who  are  you? "  demanded  the  marshal. 


102      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"Dal  Gilmore,"  replied  the  man  who  had 
taken  them  from  the  jail. 

This  time  he  did  not  speak  in  a  whisper. 
Twitching  the  bandanna  from  his  face,  he  stuffed 
it  into  the  pocket  of  his  slicker.  It  was  still  too 
dark  to  see  his  face,  but  the  voice  was  sufficient 
evidence.  Slim  and  the  marshal  did  not  swear. 
They  were  too  far  gone  in  raging  disgust  for  that. 

Gilmore's  comrade  laughed  in  keen  enjoyment 
of  the  situation. 

"So  you  t'ink  I  was  cash  een?"  he  said. 
6  Well,  I  was  not.  But  she  was  good  fight  you 
hear  all  right — all  same  real  t'ing." 

'  Yuh  see,  boys,"  Gilmore  put  in,  "  I  knew  if 
yore  friends  here  in  Plain  Edge  was  worth  the 
powder  to  blow  'em  up,  they'd  scamper  out  an' 
try  an'  rescue  you  fellahs  to-night.  They'd  have 
to.  They  couldn't  let  me  run  blazers  on  'em  for- 
ever! So  I  just  figured  I'd  better  rescue  yuh 
first,  an'  work  it  so's  yuh'd  think  it  was  yore 
friends  an'  not  go  raisin'  the  roof.  That's  how 
it  was." 

Slim  Dennison  and  the  marshal  remained 
speechless. 

When  the  sky  ahead  of  them  lightened,  they 
perceived  that  they  were  being  taken  eastward. 
This  was  disquieting.  It  might  mean  Warrior's 
Mark,  which  town  was  as  nearly  neutral  as  a  town 
can  be  in  the  cattle  country.  They  didn't  know 
a  soul  in  the  place,  either.  Inquiry  elicited  an 
answer  confirming  their  suspicion.  Plunged  in 
deepening  gloom,  they  rode  onward  to  the 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      103 

sprightly  tune  of  "  The  Keel  Row,"  whistled  by 
Gilmore. 

In  the  middle  of  the  morning  they  left  the  trail 
and  turned  into  a  dry  stream-bed  choked  with 
boulders  and  windfalls.  This,  according  to 
Nivette's  explanation,  would  lop  some  twenty 
miles  from  their  journey. 

The  going  was  hard,  even  for  that  country. 
Twice  the  marshal's  horse  fell,  and,  a  weak  cinch 
snapping  under  the  strain  of  swelling  lungs,  Slim 
Dennison's  saddle  turned  and  he  was  pitched  off 
on  his  head.  Luckily  for  Slim  he  landed  in  a 
patch  of  sand;  but,  as  he  profanely  pointed  out, 
it  might  just  as  well  have  been  a  rock.  Taking 
it  by  and  large,  the  trip  was  not  without  incident. 

When  they  left  the  stream-bed  they  rode 
diagonally  up  the  side  of  a  mountain — Pack- 
Saddle  Mountain,  Nivette  called  it — through 
pine  woods,  till  they  came  out  six  hours  later  on 
a  broad,  treeless  shelf  where  bunch-grass  grew 
thickly.  On  this  shelf  they  dismounted  and 
loosened  cinches.  Nivette  fumbled  in  a  saddle- 
pocket  and  brought  forth  an  excellent  pair  of 
field-glasses. 

"  De  judge  was  len'  dem  to  me,"  he  vouch- 
safed with  a  leer. 

"  The  judge  did — Judge  Trivvy,  yuh  mean?  " 

"  Shore.  She  ees  de  generous  feller.  I  look 
at  dem,  un  I  say,  '  Weel  you  len'  dem  to  me? ' 
Un  by  gar,  she  does  len'  dem.  You  see  dat  long 
cedair  by  de  beeg  rock?  Well,  from  dat  tree, 
near  de  top,  you  can  see  de  trail  from  Plain 


104      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Edge  to  Warrior*  Mark.  Dat  dry  wash  we 
have  rode — see  dat  too.  I  weel  rustle  de  bacon 
un  de  coffee." 

Gilmore  took  the  hint — and  the  field-glasses. 
Climbing  the  tree  as  high  as  he  dared,  he  stood 
on  a  limb  and  swept  the  tangle  of  mountain,  flat, 
and  valley  to  the  west  and  north.  He  found  the 
trail  without  difficulty — could  see  it  plainly  where 
it  looped  across  a  hillside  or  dipped  down  into  a 
valley.  It  was  empty  of  all  travelers,  but  not 
so  the  dry  stream-bed.  Strung  along  it,  moving 
black  dots  testified  to  the  presence  of  horsemen. 

Gilmore  counted  more  than  a  dozen  of  these 
dots.  Unhurriedly  he  slid  down  from  his  perch 
and  walked  back  to  where  Nivette  had  a  small 
fire  going.  The  prisoners  looked  at  him  curi- 
ously, hopefully. 

"  Not  a  thing  in  sight,"  announced  Gilmore. 
"  Where'll  I  put  these  glasses?  " 

"  I  tak'  dem,"  said  Nivette,  rising  and  follow- 
ing Gilmore  across  to  his  horse. 

*  There's  seventeen  of  'em  ridin'  along  the 
wash,"  Gilmore  whispered,  his  back  turned. 
"  They're  'bout  fourteen  or  fifteen  miles  away. 
We'll  start  soon's  we  eat." 

Nivette  made  no  reply.  He  merely  returned 
the  field-glasses  to  his  saddle-bag  and  strolled  un- 
concernedly back  to  the  fire.  Gilmore  rolled  a 
cigarette  and  pretended  to  occupy  himself  with 
inspecting  the  dun's  feet.  The  expression  of  the 
prisoners  became  considerably  less  hopeful. 

When  they  had  eaten,  they  mounted  and  rode 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      105 

onward.  Crossing  the  treeless  shelf  and  round- 
ing a  spur  of  the  mountain,  they  plowed  into 
crackling  jack-pines  and  feathery,  stunted  cedars. 
Then  they  began  to  climb  again,  up  and  up,  the 
thin  wind  of  the  high  places  singing  in  their  ears. 

As  they  climbed,  the  stunted  cedars  became 
fewer  and  the  jack-pines  grew  gnarled  and  lower 
to  the  ground.  When  finally  they  passed  the 
last  gnome-like  little  tree,  and  came  out  on  the 
brown  reaches  of  sunburnt  grass  above  timber- 
line,  they  halted  and  looked  back  over  the  way 
they  had  come. 

The  view  would  have  delighted  the  soul  of  an 
artist,  but  Gilmore  and  Nivette  did  not  notice  the 
scenery.  Their  puckered  eyes  roved  over  the 
back  trail,  striving  to  pick  up  the  pursuing  riders. 
Even  with  the  field-glasses  they  saw  no  moving 
object. 

*  Yuh'll  find  they're  a-comin'  after  yuh  all 
right,"  the  marshal  sneered  at  a  venture. 

"  Y'betcha ! "  chimed  in  Slim.   "An'  then " 

"  There's  a  little  word  called  '  if,'  "  interrupted 
Gilmore.  "  Only  a  little  word  she  is,  two  letters, 
but  they're  shore  harder  to  cross  than  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  Goon,  Slim!  'Scuse  me  for  snubbin' 
yuh  up.  What  was  yore  valuable  contribution 
to  the  conversation  goin'  to  be? " 

But  Slim,  apparently,  had  forgotten  what  he 
meant  to  say. 

"  Might  as  well  mosey  along,"  Gilmore  sug- 
gested in  his  most  casual  tone. 

Nivette  led  the  way,  quartering  across  the  easy 


io6      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

slopes.  After  a  time  Gilmore  saw  that  the  moun- 
tain was  not  one  mountain,  but  two,  and  that  they 
were  herding  toward  a  notch  between  the  twin 
peaks.  They  reached  the  pass  an  hour  later, 
crossed  it,  and  rode  straight  down  the  reverse 
slope. 

"  You  see  dat  mountain  'bout  forty  mile  off?  " 
queried  Nivette.  "  No,  not  dat  one — de  one 
wit'  de  bald  head.  Well,  dat  ees  War-Bonnet 
Mountain  een  de  Saddle  Range,  un  dees  side  de 
mountain,  right  unner  de  bald  spot,  dere  ees 
Warrior'  Mark." 

"  We'll  make  it  easy,"  observed  Gilmore. 

"  Shore  we  weel !     No  trouble  at  all." 

Suddenly,  when  they  were  still  a  half-mile 
above  timber-line,  Slim  Dennison's  horse  went 
lame  in  the  off  foreleg.  The  animal  did  not  limp 
a  great  deal,  but  any  lameness  at  that  time  and 
place  was  serious. 

Three  minutes  later  the  marshal's  horse  began 
to  limp  on  its  off  fore.  Gilmore's  eyes  narrowed. 

"  Say,  Smoky,"  he  called,  "  guess  we'd  better 
stop  right  here  a  shake.  Gotta  tie  the  feet  o' 
these  gents." 

"  Tie  our  feet ! "  bellowed  the  indignant  mar- 
shal. *  Whadda  yuh  want  to  tie  our  feet  for?  " 

"  So's  yuh  won't  go  stickin'  yore  toes  in  be- 
tween the  points  o'  yore  bosses'  elbows  an'  barrels, 
an'  makin'  'em  go  lame,"  Gilmore  explained 
calmly.  "  You  fellahs  make  me  sick !  Yo're 
bein'  treated  like  folks,  which  yuh  don't  deserve, 
an'  yuh  gotta  act  thisaway.  I  tell  yuh  flat,  I 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      107 

don't  want  any  trouble  with  you  sports,  an'  I 
don't  aim  to  have  it — no,  sir,  not  jsven  if  I  have 
to  hog- tie  yuh  an'  pack  yuh  like  flour!  " 

Much  to  the  prisoners'  disgust,  their  feet  were 
tied.  The  journey  was  resumed,  and  before  the 
four  had  been  riding  through  timber  an  hour  the 
lameness  of  the  two  horses  had  disappeared. 
Observing  which,  Gilmore  nodded  his  head  con- 
tentedly. 

"  I  kind  o'  thought  they'd  work  it  out,"  he  re- 
marked. "  You  fellahs  didn't  stick  yore  toes  in 
quite  far  enough." 

When  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  moun- 
tain, a  wide,  grassy  valley  between  high  hills 
opened  before  them.  They  rode  into  the  valley 
and  breasted  a  fringe  of  dwarfish  red  willows 
beside  a  tiny  brook,  of  which  they  drank,  and  al- 
lowed the  horses  to  drink  a  few  swallows — no 
more,  for  there  is  nothing  like  ice-cold  mountain 
water  to  give  a  sweating  horse  the  colic. 

"  I've  done  lost  all  feelin'  in  my  laigs,"  com- 
plained the  marshal. 

'  Time  enough  to  begin  to  worry  >vhen  yuh 
lose  all  feelin'  in  yore  neck,"  was  Gilmore's 
heartening  response.  "Do  yuh  want  another 
drink,  Slim?  " 

"  Not  o'  that  rank  water  I  don't." 

"Suit  yoreself.  How  far  to  the  Mark, 
Smoky? " 

M  'Bout  twenty  mile.  We  fin'  de  trail  varree 
quick  now." 

Ten  minutes  later  they  rode  into  the  trail — the 


io8      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

narrow,  grass-grown  stage-trail  between  Plain 
Edge  and  Warrior's  Mark.  The  sun  had  long 
since  gone  down  behind  the  twin  peaks  of  Pack- 
Saddle.  Gilmore,  spurred  by  the  thought  of  the 
seventeen  questing  along  the  back  track,  drove 
his  little  cavalcade  mercilessly  through  the 
strange,  slow  twilight  of  the  high  country  and  on 
into  the  blue-blackness  of  the  night.  Not  till 
Nivette's  horse  began  to  stumble  occasionally  did 
he  slow  down  to  a  brisk  walk. 

And  brisk  it  was.  With  quirt  and  spur  the 
ponies  were  kept  going.  Three  of  them  were 
desperately  weary.  The  strong  and  hardy  dun 
showed  no  sign  of  suffering;  but  then  he  never 
did.  Gilmore  had  never  yet  attained  the  limit  of 
his  horse's  powers. 

"  What's  yore  hurry? "  growled  the  peevish 
Slim.  "  If  I  gotta  be  stretched,  I  gotta  be 
stretched,  an'  that's  all  there  is  to  her;  but  I  has 
objections  to  ridin'  to  death  first.  Not  that  I'm 
tired.  I  never  get  tired,  but,  what  with  my  laigs 
bein'  tied  down  an'  all,  I'm  kind  o'  glued  to  the 
saddle.  If  yuh  hasn't  no  serious  objections  I'd 
shore  admire  to  get  off  an'  kick  a  tree  good  an' 
hard,  just  to  see  if  I'm  paralyzed  or  not." 

"Aw,  shut  up!"  snapped  the  marshal. 
"  Paralyzed,  huh?  Me,  I'm  plumb  dead  from 
the  belt  down,  an'  I  been  that  way  a  long  time. 
Somebody's  a-goin'  to  pay  for  all  this!  "  he  added 
darkly. 

"  It's  all  yore  fault,  yuh  id  jit! "  snarleo1  Slim. 
"  If  yuh'd  'a'  waited,  like  I  wanted  to,  till  we  got 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      109 

in  among  them  trees,  an'  then  yuh'd  'a'  cut  down 
on  him,  we  wouldn't  be  here  now*  But  no,  yuh 
knowed  it  all,  yuh  did,  an'  yuh  had  to  go  pullin' 
at  yore  gun  while  we  was  still  out  in  the  open. 
Course  ye  got  nicked.  'Stead  o'  just  a  finger,  I 
wish  it  had  been  yore  fool  head!  " 

"  Yuh  do,  huh?  Well,  if  yuh'd  V  used  yore 
fool  head  yuh'd  'a'  waited  to  beef  Sam  Kyle  till 
after  dark,  instead  o'  drillin'  him  in  broad  day- 
light. Well,  yuh  got  a  long  chance  o'  gettin'  his 
woman  now,  haven't  yuh?  For  all  yore  sneakin' 
an'  snoopin'  an'  hangin'  round  she  never  would 
have  nothin'  to  do  with  yuh,  an'  she  won't  now, 
yuh  can  gamble  an'  go  the  limit  on  that!  " 

"To  hell  with  her!"  sneered  Slim.  "She 
ain't  such  a  much.  I  guess  I'll  just  have  to  cut 
out  Jack  Shaw  an'  Dick  Enright  with — you  know 
who.  They  ain't  got  no  chance  anyway.  She 
don't  like  'em.  She'll  talk  to  'em,  but  what's 
that?  Why,  say,  one  day  when  I  met  her  out  on 
the  range  she  an'  me  had  quite  a  confab.  We 
dumb  off  our  horses  an'  set  down  ag'in'  a  log; 
an',  say,  it  wasn't  no  time  'fore  I  had  my  arm 
round  her  waist  an*  was  kissin'  her  forty  to  the 
minute." 

'Yo'realiar!" 

"  If  I  had  my  gun  I'd  show  yuh;  but  long's  I 
ain't  I'll  just  tell  yuh  to  go  ask  her,  next  time  yuh 
see  her.  Yuh  just  ask  her!  I  tell  yuh,  Tim,  it 
was  shore  a  large  time  we  had,  Louise  Stuart 
an' me!" 

Swish!      Crack!      A    quirt's    double    thongs 


no      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

lashed  Slim  Dennison  across  the  face.  A  horse 
crowded  alongside,  and  Gilmore  leaned  toward 
him. 

"  Shut  yore  dirty  mouth!"  the  deputy  whis- 
pered tensely.  "  Yo're  a  liar  an'  a  skunk,  an'  if 
yuh  say  one  more  word  about  that  lady  in  any 
way  or  meanin'  whatever,  I'll  pull  yuh  off  that 
hoss  an'  beat  yuh  to  a  whisper !  " 

Slim  Dennison  was  too  surprised  to  utter  a 
word  at  first. 

"  Yuh  know  I'm  handcuffed "  he  began 

thickly. 

"  Yo're  lucky.  If  yuh'd  'a'  been  free  an'  foot- 
loose, an'  packin'  a  gun,  yuh'd  be  flockin'  to  the 
golden  stairs  right  now.  Now  close  yore  face!  " 


CHAPTER  X 

IT  was  almost  midnight  when  they  rode  into 
Warrior's  Mark.  Gilmore  routed  out  an  amazed 
marshal  and  requested  him  to  open  the  jail.  The 
marshal  complied  with  alacrity,  and  Slim  Denni- 
son  and  Tim  Simms  once  more  sat  down  on  a 
hard  floor  and  looked  at  the  star-dusted  heavens 
through  barred  windows. 

The  marshal,  a  bow-legged  gentleman  named 
Doheny,  listened  without  comment  while  Gilmore 
explained  the  situation  and  its  possibilities. 

"  How  soon  do  yuh  expect  yore  friends  to  drift 
in?  "  he  inquired,  when  he  had  the  whole  story. 

"  If  their  hosses  are  holdin'  out,  they  ought  to 
be  here  in  a  hour,  more  or  less,"  replied  Gilmore. 
"  They're  ten  or  twelve  miles  behind,  I  guess." 

"  I'll  get  a  few  o'  the  boys  together,"  said 
Doheny,  caressing  his  square  chin.  "  They 
might  want  to  run  a  blazer  on  us,  or  somethin'." 

But  even  as  he  uttered  the  words  there  was  a 
far-away  drum  of  horses  galloping. 

"  I  guess  that's  them,"  Gilmore  observed 
calmly,  and  took  his  Winchester  from  the  saddle. 

Smoky  led  the  horses  to  the  rear  of  the  jail,  and 
Doheny  hurried  to  get  help.  When  the  half- 
breed  returned  with  his  rifle,  he  found  Gilmore 


112      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

sitting  comfortably  on  the  jail  steps,  the  Win- 
chester across  his  knees. 

"  Take  a  seat,  Smoky,"  invited  Gilmore,  mov- 
ing over.     "  Nothin'  like  restin'  easy  while  we 


can." 


They  were  sitting  there  when  the  would-be 
rescuers,  seventeen  shadowy  riders,  loped  their 
staggering  ponies  up  the  town's  one  street  and 
halted  in  front  of  the  jail.  In  the  darkness  they 
did  not  at  first  perceive  the  two  motionless  figures 
seated  on  the  steps. 

"  They  must  'a'  got  here,"  said  one  rider.  "  I'll 
get  the  marshal." 

"  No  need  o'  that,"  remarked  Gilmore,  slightly 
shifting  his  Winchester.  :<  The  marshal  will  be 
hack  in  a  minute." 

"  I  knowed  they  was  here!  "  exclaimed  the  man 
who  had  spoken. 

Another  rider  spurred  forward. 

"Not  too  close!"  was  Gilmore's  soft-spoken 
suggestion. 

The  man  checked  his  horse. 

"  Yuh  shore  are  slick,"  he  said.  "  We  give 
yuh  credit  for  gettin'  here  first  an'  sudden,  but  it 
won't  do  yuh  no  good.  Judge  Triwy  has  an- 
nulled them  two  warrants,  an'  we've  come  for  the 
prisoners.  We  don't  want  no  trouble,  but  we've 
come  for  the  prisoners." 

Gilmore's  unquenchable  spirit  rose  to  meet  the 
menace  in  the  other's  tone. 

"  So  yuh've  come  for  the  prisoners,"  he  re- 
peated tenderly.  "  Now  that's  what  I  call  public- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      113 

spirited.  There  ain't  many  gents  would  take  the 
trouble;  an'  after  to-night,  if  yo^re  still  certain 
shore  yuhVe  come  for  the  prisoners,  there  won't 
be  so  many.  No,  sir,  such  public-spirited  gents, 
sot  in  their  ways,  are  a  heap  likely  to  grow  less  in 
number  as  time  rolls  on.  Think  it  over,  gents, 
think  it  over!" 

"  Say,  I  tell  you  we've "  the  spokesman 

began  angrily. 

"  No  hurry,"  Gilmore  hastened  to  assure  him, 
"  Take  yore  time.  We've  got  the  whole  evenin', 
an'  I  ain't  in  a  bit  of  a  hurry.  To  tell  yuh  the 
truth,  we  were  gettin'  a  heap  lonesome,  my 
pardner  an'  me,  an'  we  was  just  wishin'  some- 
body'd  sift  in  an'  sort  o'  liven  things  up,  when 

here  yuh  come.  Luck,  I  call  it,  an' Say, 

fellah,  you  on  the  white  boss,  I  wouldn't  go  f ussin' 
at  any  gun.  It  always  makes  me  jumpy  an'  nerv- 
ous like  when  a  gent  starts  pickin'  at  his  artil- 
lery. Here's  my  Winchester  a-pointin'  plumb  at 
the  abdomen  o'  the  tall  sport  who's  been  doin'  all 
the  talkin'.  Now  he  has  a  right  nice-soundin'  way 
o'  makin'  a  speech.  I  shore  enjoyed  hearin'  what 
he  had  to  say.  But — an'  here  we  come  to  the 
bottom  of  the  well — but  I'll  shore  have  to  drill 
him  a  lot  if  I  get  any  nervouser.  I  thank  you, 
Mr.  White  Horse.  I  kind  o'  hoped  yuh'd  see  it 
my  way.  The  sharps  in  the  back,  the  ones  I 
can't  see  very  well  'count  o'  their  bein*  sort  o'  be- 
hind the  others,  can  take  it  for  granted  that  Mr. 
Nivette  is  lookin'  after  their  interests.  The 
shadow  that  just  slid  down  to  the  corner  of  the 


ii4      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

jail  is  Mr.  Nivette.  Now  that  we  understand 
each  other,  what  can  I  do  for  yuh?  If  yuh  don't 
see  what  yuh  want,  ask  for  it." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool! "  cautioned  the  spokesman, 
while  the  others  muttered  profanely  among  them- 
selves. "  We  got  yuh,  an'  yuh  know  it.  There 
ain't  no  two  ways  about  it.  Yuh  gotta  turn  over 
them  prisoners,  or  we'll  fill  yuh  full  o'  lead!  " 

"  Yuh've  been  hintin'  at  that  right  steady  ever 
since  yuh  rode  in,"  complained  Gilmore.  "  Try 
somethin'  new,  can't  yuh? " 

*  Yuh  won't  give  'em  up?"     The  speaker's 
tone  was  rasping. 

'  Yuh  make  me  plumb  weary,"  said  Gilmore. 
"Why,  fellah,  look  what's  comin'  in  behind 
yuh!" 

Involuntarily  the  entire  seventeen  turned  their 
heads.  What  they  saw  was  sufficient.  Rolling 
swiftly  toward  them  was  a  confused  mass  which, 
on  its  nearer  approach,  resolved  itself  into  the 
town  marshal  heading  a  deputation  consisting  of 
most  of  the  male  citizens  of  Warrior's  Mark. 
The  citizens  silently  lined  up  along  the  edge  of 
the  street.  The  marshal  stepped  forward  and 
confronted  the  leader  of  the  Plain  Edge  men. 

*  What  do  yuh  want?  "  Doheny  demanded. 

"  Them  two  prisoners,"  the  Plain  Edger  told 
him.  "  Yore  holdin'  'em  ain't  legal.  The  judge 
who  issued  the  warrants  has  annulled  'em. 
Here's  my  authority." 

He  held  a  paper  toward  Doheny. 

"  You  didn't  show  that  to  me,"  Gilmore  said 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       115 

reproachfully,  rising  and  joining  the  marshal. 
"Let's  see  it!" 

He  took  the  paper  from  Doheny's  willing  hand, 
and  struck  a  match.  Calmly  he  held  the  flame 
to  the  edge  of  the  judicial  notice. 

"  Hey,  whatcha  doin'?  "  the  Plain  Edge  leader 
bawled. 

"  Don'tcha  move!  "  rejoined  Doheny. 

The  paper  burned  swiftly.  Gilmore  dropped 
the  last  flickering  shred  before  it  burned  his 
fingers,  and  looked  up  at  the  Plain  Edger. 

"Now  where's  your  authority?"  he  inquired 
cheerfully. 

*  Yuh'll  be  sorry  for  this ! "  the  other  replied 
heatedly.  "  Doheny,  I  call  on  you  to  release 
them  prisoners." 

"  What  prisoners? "  was  Doheny's  parry. 

"  The  ones  in  the  calaboose.  Yuh  can't  tell  us 
they  ain't  there.  We  know  better.  We  want 
'em  right  now,  an'  we're  a-goin  to  have  'em !  " 

'  There  he  goes — beginnin'  all  over  again," 
groaned  Gilmore. 

"  Well,  I'd  shore  admire  to  oblige  yuh," 
Doheny  asserted;  "  but  it  can't  be  did  nohow.  I 
can't  go  throwin'  the  jail  open  to  all  comers  an' 
releasin'  prisoners  thisaway.  Special  I  can't 
when  I  ain't  got  no  written  authority,  no  official 
order,  y'  understand." 

"But " 

"  I  know,  gents,  but  why  talk  about  it?  What 
I'm  tellin'  yuh  goes  as  it  lays,  an'  no  bets 
coppered.  S'posin'  you  an'  yore  friends  pull  yore 


n6      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

freight!  To  tell  yuh  the  truth,  if  yo're  gummin' 
up  the  view  three  minutes  from  now,  yo're  mighty 
likely  to  be  with  us  some  few  of  a  time! " 

The  Plain  Edge  men  did  not  stand  upon  the 
order  of  their  going.  When  the  clatter  of  their 
departure  had  become  inaudible,  the  marshal's 
reinforcements  dispersed,  and  the  officer  himself 
sat  down  upon  the  jail  steps  with  Gilmore  and 
Nivette. 

"  I  don't  like  that  annulling  notice,"  Doheny 
abruptly  announced. 

"Meanin'?"  was  Gilmore's  quiet  question. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  yore  burnin'  the  thing. 
That  was  all  right ;  but  if  they  bring  another  one 
signed  by  Triwy,  what  can  I  do?  I'll  have  to 
honor  it." 

"  Will  yuh? " 

"  If  I  don't,  all  they  have  to  do  is  sue  out  a 
writ  o'  habeas  corpus.  I  can't  get  round  that, 
not  nohow." 

"  Yuh  can  if  yuh  make  another  charge  against 
him." 

"  Another  charge?"  Doheny  repeated  stupidly. 

"  Shore,  another  charge,"  Gilmore  chuckled. 
"  Yuh  see,  the  habeas  corpus  writ  only  covers 
the  arrest  for  murder.  If  there's  an  additional 
charge  o'  rustlin'  or  vagrancy — oh,  'most  any 
little  thing'll  do — why,  then  the  writ  don't  travel 
a  foot.  All  yuh  gotta  do  is  keep  makin'  addi- 
tional charges  as  fast  as  they  bring  up  writs.  O' 
course,  it  ain't  strictly  fair,  an'  I  dunno  as  it's 
strictly  legal,  but  it  can  be  done." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      117 

"  Ye-es,"  assented  the  dubious  marshal, 
"but " 

"  Now  don't  start  in  with  any  buts,  Yuh 
know  as  well  as  I  that  the  bunch  in  Plain  Edge 
an'  Virgin  City  are  the  busiest  lot  o'  lawbreakers 
outside  o'  jail.  They  gotta  be  stopped,  an*  it 
don't  matter  real  particular  how  they're  stopped." 

"  This  thing's  been  goin'  on  for  years.  What 
can  one  or  two  men  do?  " 

"  You  hold  these  two  fellahs  an'  I'll  show  yuh 
what  one  or  two  men  can  do." 

The  marshal  scratched  his  head.  He  slowly 
rolled  a  cigarette,  lit  it,  and  smoked,  inhaling 
deeply.  Gilmore  and  Nivette  waited  patiently. 

"  If  nobody  brings  me  any  habeas  corpus  writs, 
I'll  hold  them  two  boys  for  yuh  long's  yuh  like," 
the  marshal  said  at  last.  "  But  if  their  friends 
do  sue  out  writs — an'  they  will,  y'betcha — I  can't 
make  out  to  keep  'em  more'n  a  month  or  six 
weeks.  That's  the  best  I  can  do." 

"  That's  good  enough  for  a  dog.  A  fellah  can 
do  quite  a  jag  o'  work  in  six  weeks.  I'm  shore 
obliged  to  yuh  for  helpin'  us  out!  " 

"  That's  all  right.  How  about  comin'  over  to 
my  shack  an'  restin'  yore  hats,  gents? " 


CHAPTER  XI 

DURING  the  ride  from  Warrior's  Mark,  Gil- 
more  had  artfully  brought  round  the  subject  of 
conversation  to  women-folk  in  general.  From 
this  as  a  basis  it  had  been  easy  to  work  up  to 
specific  cases. 

"  You  bet  you,"  Smoky  affirmed,  "  Meesus 
Mary  jane  ees  one  fine  woman.  She  ees  good 
beezness  man  un  good-lookin'  een  de  face,  too. 
I  like  her,  me." 

"  Not  many  others  like  her  around,  are  there?  " 

Gilmore's  tone  was  plainfully  casual.  Nivette 
gave  him  a  sharp  look. 

"  I  weel  tell  you,  my  Men',"  he  remarked. 
"  Dere  ees  one  odair,  un  dat  ees  Mees  Louise 
Stuart.  She  ees  one  grande  demoiselle — by  gar, 
she  ees !  All  tarn  she  wear  de  pant  like  de  man. 
Nevair  she  wear  de  dress,  nevair.  But  all  de 
same  she  ees  what  I  say.  One  tarn  when  I  was 
seeck  ovair  at  Benson's  ranch,  she  bring  me  medi- 
cine un  feex  me  up.  But  dat  was  before  de 
trouble  between  de  Hash  Knife  un  de  Lazy  D. 
She  was  onlee  fourteen  year  old  den.  Her  peo- 
ple, dey  are  t'iefs,  but  because  dey  are  dat  does 
not  hurt  her.  No,  by  gar,  eet  does  not !  Un  she 
mus'  not  be  hurt  een  dees  row." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      119 

"  She  won't  be  hurt." 

"  Eet  ees  not  my  beezness,"^  said  the  half- 
breed,  his  hard,  black  eyes  boring  into  Gilmore's 
steady  blue  ones;  "  un  you  can  tell  me  for  to 
shut  de  mouth,  but  Mees  Stuart  she  ees  my  frien'. 
For  her  I  would  fight  whole  tribe  Enjun.  Un 
I  ask  you,  my  frien',  how  you  lak  her? " 

"  I  love  her,"  Gilmore  replied  simply.  "  Some 
day  I  mean  to  marry  her." 

"  Den  dat  ees  all  right,"  smiled  Nivette. 
"  You  are  de  good  man,  un  I  weesh  you  all  de 
luck  een  de  worl'.  I  have  t'ink  'bout  dis  long 
time — evair  since  you  heet  Sleem  across  de  jaw 
wit'  de  quirt — un  I  have  wonder.  Well,  I  am 
glad,  my  frien',  for  now  I  know." 

"  Say,  Smoky,  don't  she  ever  wear  skirts? " 

"  Nobody  see  Mees  Stuart  een  a  dress, 
jamais — nevair,  lak  I  say.  Eet  ees  alway  de 
pant." 

'  Well,  of  course,  I  don't  care,  but " 

"  Don'  you  wreenkle  de  forehead  ovair  dat," 
comforted  the  half-breed.  "  Eef  you  can  mak' 
de  lady  marry  wit'  you,  you  can  mak'  her  wear 
any  kin'  clo'es  you  lak.  De  job  ees  to  marry  wit' 
her.  De  res'  ees  easy." 

But  Gilmore  had  his  doubts. 

When  it  came  nearly  time  to  separate,  the  half- 
breed  urged  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  accom- 
pany Gilmore;  but  the  latter  would  have  none 
of  it. 

"  She's  no  use  a-talkin',  Smoky,"  Gilmore  said 
with  finality.  "  I  gotta  go  alone.  It's  a  one- 


120      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

man  job,  this  visit  is.  Tom  Johnson  knows  yuh, 
don't  he?  Well,  wouldn't  he  get  suspicious  a  lot 
if  you  an'  me  came  driftin'  in  together?  Yuh 
bet  he  would.  So  yuh  see  I  gotta  go  alone.  No 
two  ways  about  it !  " 

"  I  t'ink  you  weel  be  keel,"  was  Nivette's 
doubtful  comment. 

"I  won't  be,"  laughed  Gilmore.  "I  ain't 
a-goin'  to  die  for  quite  a  long  time  yet.  Got  too 
much  to  do,  I  have,  to  go  round  dyin'  just  now. 
But  speakin'  o'  that,  how  about  you  an'  Virgin 
City?  You  can't  go  back  there." 

"  Un  why  not?  "  Nivette  wished  to  know.  "  I 
have  de  Winchestair,  I  have  de  six-shootair,  I 
have  de  knife,  un  I  have  four — five  frien'  een 
Virgin  Ceety.  I  am  all  right.  When  you  come, 
you  weel  fin'  me  dere  waitin'." 

"  Here's  where  we  separate,  then.  Ain't  this 
the  draw  where  I  turn  off  to  go  to  the  Lazy  D?  " 

"  Dees  ees  eet.  You  have  de  leetle  map  I  mak' 
safe? " 

"  Shore.     So-long,  Smoky ! " 

"  So-long,  Dal.  Don't  you  keel  nobody 
more'n  you  have  to.  Here,  tak  de  fiel'-glass. 
You  may  need  dem." 

The  draw  was  three  miles  in  length.  Gilmore 
rode  out  of  the  other  end  upon  a  wide  flat,  down 
the  middle  of  which  meandered  a  small  river  bor- 
dered by  the  eternal  cottonwoods.  This  river 
was  the  War  Ax,  and  despite  many  bends  its 
general  direction  of  flow  was  south. 

According   to    Nivette's    penciled    map,    the 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       121 

Triangle  O  ranch-house  lay  down-stream  some 
forty  miles.  At  a  point  beyond  the  Triangle  O, 
thirty  miles  or  more,  the  river  ran  between  a 
saddle-backed  hill  and  another  shaped  like  a 
wickiup.  Between  forty  and  fifty  miles  west  of 
these  hills  lay  the  Lazy  D. 

Gilmore  made  his  unhurried  way  southward. 
Most  of  the  time  he  kept  the  western  rim  of  the 
valley  between  himself  and  the  river.  Twice  he 
saw  riders,  but,  seeing  them  first,  he  got  under 
cover  before  they  glimpsed  him. 

When  the  sun  was  near  its  setting,  he  knew  by 
his  map  that  he  was  not  far  from  the  Triangle  O 
ranch-house.  He  detoured  widely  and  struck 
the  river  again  ten  miles  to  the  south.  Here  he 
made  a  fireless  camp  and  spent  the  night.  At 
the  first  glow  of  dawn  he  was  mounted  and  rid- 
ing on. 

An  hour  or  two  later  he  was  moved  to  consult 
his  map ;  but  his  prodding  fingers  could  not  find 
it  in  any  pocket,  nor  was  it  in  the  saddle-bags  or 
cantinas. 

"  I  guess  I  remember  it  pretty  well,"  he  con- 
soled himself,  and  urged  his  horse  into  a  lope. 

Now  he  rode  with  extreme  caution;  for 
Nivette  had  told  him  that  the  Lazy  D  men  were 
worse  than  the  Triangle  O,  and  almost  as  bad  as 
the  V  Up-and-Down,  it  being  their  pleasant  habit 
to  shoot  first  and  seek  an  explanation  later.  This 
was  the  reason  both  for  Nivette's  desire  to  ac- 
company him  and  for  his  own  resolve  to  go  alone. 
Gilmore  knew  that  if  he  could  reach  Tom  John* 


122      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

son  without  being  shot,  and  without  being  com- 
pelled to  shoot,  he  would  be  safe  enough.  For 
he  had  concocted  a  story  warranted  to  impress  the 
most  suspicious  skeptic,  and  Tom  Johnson  was  a 
person  of  small  imagination.  He  had  proved 
that  by  the  memorandum  and  the  I.  O.  U.  on  the 
ace  of  spades. 

When  Gilmore  had  traveled,  as  he  judged, 
some  thirty  miles  from  the  Triangle  O,  he  rode 
in  among  low  hills.  He  did  not  see  the  saddle- 
backed  hill  and  the  one  shaped  like  a  wickiup 
which  flanked  the  ranch-house.  Nevertheless, 
firm  in  the  belief  that  his  memory  was  not  at 
fault,  he  forded  the  War  Ax  and  headed  steadily 
westward. 

"  I  dunno,  Frosty  fellah,"  he  said  several  hours 
later.  "  It  don't  seem  like  the  Lazy  D  is  croppin' 
up  verv  fast.  It  ain't  possible  that  we  overrode 
it,  huh? " 

The  dun  flapped  his  lower  lip  and  swished  a 
long  tail  when  Gilmore  leaned  forward  and 
rubbed  him  between  the  ears  with  his  knuckles. 

Wliung-g!  Something  hummed  through  the 
air  where  the  rider's  head  had  been  before  he  bent 
forward.  Gilmore  did  not  straighten  up.  He 
stayed  as  he  was,  drove  home  the  spurs,  and 
poured  the  leather  into  the  dun.  That  surprised 
animal,  after  one  frantic  leap,  stretched  himself 
out  and  ran  like  a  scared  coyote. 

Seconds  after  the  bullet  passed  over  his  head 
Gilmore  heard  the  faint  crack  of  the  report.  He 
looked  over  his  shoulder.  Nearly  three  quarters 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      123 

of  a  mile  distant,  above  an  outcrop  on  a  hillside, 
a  tiny  gray  smoke-puff  was  shredding  away,  and 
three  riders  were  galloping  down  the  slope  to- 
ward him. 

"Now,  little  fellah,  we  gotta  ride!"  Gilmore 
told  the  dun,  and  straightway  became  absorbed 
in  the  task  of  increasing  his  lead. 

The  three  pursuers  did  not  fire  again.  They 
confined  themselves  to  riding.  And  they  did 
ride.  They  even  gained  a  little  at  first ;  but  their 
horses  could  not  go  the  pace  with  the  dun. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  Gilmore  looked 
over  his  shoulder  again.  The  men  in  the  rear 
were  beginning  to  drop  back.  He  waved  his  hat 
derisively.  Thut-t!  A  bullet  ripped  through 
the  crown  of  the  hat  and  another  ricocheted  off 
a  rock  near  the  dun's  forefeet.  Gilmore  ab- 
ruptly ceased  waving  his  hat. 

A  hundred  yards  ahead  he  saw  the  entrance 
of  a  narrow  draw.  He  jerked  the  horse  into  the 
draw,  rode  madly  for  a  half-mile,  and  was  brought 
up  short;  for  a  great  spruce  had  fallen  into  the 
gully,  blocking  it  completely. 

The  sides  of  the  draw  were  extremely  steep. 
In  places  they  were  perpendicular.  It  was  a 
tight  pinch,  especially  tight  in  that  three  quick- 
shooting  gentlemen  were  hammering  along  in 
the  rear. 

Gilmore  set  his  horse  at  the  western  side  of  the 
draw,  and  stood  up  in  his  stirrups.  The  brave- 
hearted  dun  scrambled  upward  like  a  cat.  Dirt 
and  gravel  flew  from  under  his  hoofs  in  showers. 


124      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

He  was  almost  at  the  top  when  his  hind  legs 
slipped  and  he  slid  to  the  bottom. 

"  Don'tcha  care,  fellah,  don'tcha  care!"  bawled 
Gilmore.  "Try  her  again!  Come  on  now! 
Up  yuh  go !  " 

Scrambling,  slipping,  catching  himself  by  a 
miracle,  the  horse  strained  up  the  steep.  He 
hooked  his  forelegs  over  the  top  of  the  declivity, 
and  there  he  stuck.  Gilmore  flung  himself  from 
the  saddle,  sank  his  heels  into  the  earth  between 
the  horse's  hoofs,  and  pulled  on  the  bit  for  all  he 
was  worth. 

With  a  grunt  and  a  plunge  the  dun  heaved 
himself  up  on  level  ground.  Gilmore  dragged 
him  away  from  the  edge,  dropped  the  reins  on 
the  ground,  and  rushed  back  with  his  rifle  to  stem 
a  possible  charge.  But  the  enemy  was  not  charg- 
ing that  day.  A  quarter-mile  away,  when  the 
dun  made  his  supreme  effort,  the  pursuers  had 
recognized  that  the  advantage  had  changed 
hands  for  the  time  being,  and  had  turned  back. 

"  They'll  come  round  some  other  way,"  said 
Gilmore,  running  back  to  his  horse.  "  Oh,  shore 
they  will,  bless  their  little  hearts,  but  when  they 
do  they  won't  find  this  orphan  child.  Come  on, 
Frosty  hoss,  show  these  here  hold-ups  what  a 
Noo  Mexican  cayuse  can  do  when  he  just  natu- 
rally spreads  out  his  tail  and  travels !  " 

Frosty  flattened  his  ears  and  settled  down  to 
his  knitting.  He  galloped  straight  toward  the 
setting  sun,  and  he  kept  up  his  stride  till  the  sun 
set  and  the  stars  came  out. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      125 

When  he  came  to  a  tiny  stream,  Gilmore  halted 
and  made  another  fireless  camp.  *  His  palate  was 
beyond  measure  tired  of  cold  bacon  and  cold 
water  and  dusty  cracker-crumbs,  but  he  dared  not 
light  a  fire — not  in  this  unregenerate  country. 

When  he  had  eaten  sparingly,  and  was  lying 
on  his  back  smoking  and  listening  to  Frosty,  as 
the  pony  energetically  wrenched  its  dinner  out 
of  the  bunch-grass,  he  felt  a  cold  drop  on  his  face. 
Then  came  another,  and  another,  and  several 
more  all  together  added  to  the  gaiety  of  the 
occasion. 

"  I  knew  she  was  beginnin'  to  cloud  up,"  he 
muttered;  "  but  I  shore  didn't  think  she  was  goin' 
to  rain.  Why,  it  hadn't  ought  to  rain — not  now, 
in  summer ! " 

But  it  was  raining,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  it  was 
pouring.  Gilmore,  sitting  cross-legged  inside 
his  slicker,  remained  where  he  was  till  it  began 
to  hail.  Then  he  hastily  saddled  the  frantic 
Frosty  and  rode  away,  drifting  with  the  storm. 

The  hail  ceased  inside  of  thirty  minutes,  but  the 
rain  took  it  up  harder  than  ever.  The  wind 
raved  across  the  levels  and  swooped,  yelling,  in 
and  out  of  the  draws. 

"  This  rain  don't  hit  me  where  I  live  a-tall," 
observed  Gilmore,  when  the  water  began  to 
trickle  down  inside  his  collar.  "  I'd  like  it  a  lot 
if  there  was  lightnin'  or  somethin' ;  but  this  here 
has  a  steady  run  to  it  that  sounds  promisin'  for 
a  week." 


CHAPTER  XII 

GILMORE'S  augury  of  a  week  of  rain  was  in- 
correct; but  the  downpour  lasted  till  the  middle 
of  the  following  morning,  when  it  ceased  as  sud- 
denly as  it  had  begun.  The  clouds  blew  away 
to  the  southwest,  the  sun  came  out,  and  Gilmore 
steamed  in  his  wet  clothes. 

Leaving  his  horse  in  a  cup-like  pocket  between 
two  low  hills,  he  climbed  the  taller  height,  sat 
down  with  his  back  braced  against  a  boulder,  and 
swept  the  landscape  with  his  field-glasses.  Miles 
away  in  the  northwest,  he  saw  a  cluster  of  squat 
ranch-buildings. 

"  Can't  be  the  Lazy  D,"  he  said.  "  I'm  a  long- 
ride  west  o'  that  now."  Then  something  familiar 
about  the  position  of  the  corrals  in  relation  to  the 
ranch-house  struck  him.  "  She's  the  Hash 
Knife!  That's  what  she  is— the  Hash  Knife! " 

He  continued  to  stare  through  the  glasses,  his 
lips  curving  in  a  slow  smile.  It  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  he  saw  merely  the  prosaic  buildings 
of  the  ranch.  Not  at  all !  He  saw  Louise  Stuart 
of  the  honey-colored  hair  and  amber  eyes. 

"  I  wish  she  wouldn't  wear  pants,"  he 
mourned.  "  I  bet  she'd  be  a  whizzer  in  skirts !  " 

From  a  hill  that  lay  between  him  and  the  ranch 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       127 

a  figure  on  horseback  detached  itself  and  moved 
slowly  in  his  direction.  The  horse  was  a  pinto 
with  an  all-white  head. 

"  Seems  to  me,"  muttered  Gilmore,  "  that 
Louise  was  ridin'  a  pinto  like  that  the  first  time 
I  met  her.  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it  harder,  I'm 
dead  shore  she  was." 

He  crawled  round  behind  his  back-rest,  lay 
down  on  his  stomach,  and  poked  the  field-glasses 
past  the  edge.  Horse  and  rider  were  within  a 
mile  before  Gilmore  could  be  sure  that  the  rider 
was  a  woman.  At  eight  hundred  yards'  range  he 
recognized  Louise  Stuart. 

"  If  this  ain't  luck! "  he  breathed,  ecstatically 
clicking  his  heels  together.  "  Luck,  whole  herds 
o'  luck!  Say,  she's  a-goin'  to  get  off.  Yep — an' 
she's  got  on  a  divided  skirt! " 

Mr.  Gilmore's  eyes  opened  saucer-wise.  He 
stared  with  his  mouth  well  ajar;  but  what  fol- 
lowed was  still  more  amazing  than  the  divided 
skirt.  Miss  Stuart  dismounted,  knee-hobbled  her 
pony,  spread  a  slicker  on  the  wet  ground,  and 
took  a  flat,  oblong  package  from  her  saddle-bags. 
She  sat  down  on  the  slicker,  her  feet  under  her, 
and  undid  the  package. 

"It's  a  lookin'-glass!"  whispered  Gilmore. 
"  A  lookin'-glass,  an'  she's  a-stickin'  it  up  in  front 
of  her  against  that  rock.  Now  what's  she  doin'  ?  " 

He  was  not  long  kept  in  doubt.  Unhurriedly 
Miss  Stuart  began  to  arrange  her  hair.  When 
she  had  completed  her  coiffure,  she  examined  it 
carefully  from  every  angle,  took  it  down,  and 


128      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

started  afresh.  After  the  second  attempt  had 
been  demolished,  Gilmore  closed  his  field-glasses 
and  wriggled  rearward. 

Miss  Stuart,  having  added  the  finishing  touch 
to  her  fifth  experiment  by  tying  a  baby -blue  rib- 
bon round  her  head,  tilted  her  chin  to  contem- 
plate the  effect. 

'  That  shore  is  pretty,"  a  voice  behind  her 
drawled  lazily. 

Miss  Stuart  did  not  start.  She  merely  rested 
her  hands  on  her  knees  and  slowly  turned  her 
head.  Her  narrowed  amber  eyes  beheld  Gil- 
more,  his  hat  by  his  side,  sitting  within  six  feet 
of  her.  He  nodded  cheerfully  to  her,  his  white 
teeth  flashing  in  a  most  disarming  style. 

"  I  always  did  like  blue — light  blue  like  that," 
he  announced.  "  It  goes  great  against  yore 
hair!" 

She  continued  to  regard  him  wordlessly. 

"  Ma'am,  yuh  could  speak  if  yuh  like,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  Say  howdy,  or  somethin',  just  to  be 
sociable  an'  show  there's  no  hard  feelin's." 

Miss  Stuart  smiled.  Yet  thereby  she  added 
nothing  to  the  beauty  of  her  face;  for  it  was  a  de- 
cidedly unpleasant  smile.  In  its  intensity  it  was 
almost  baleful. 

'  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  she  demanded. 

*  I'm  watchin'  you,  ma'am,"  was  his  calm  re- 
joinder. 

"  Spy! "  The  most  talented  of  actresses  could 
not  have  injected  more  contempt  into  the  word. 

"  Now,  ma'am,"  he  deprecated,  "  yuh  know 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      129 

better.  Honest,  if  yuh  go  on  talkin'  thataway, 
I'll  begin  to  think  yuh  don't  want  me  round." 

"  You  are  a  spy!  You  know  you  are!  You 
have  come  here  to  put  innocent  people  in  jail! " 

"  Innocent  people!  Why,  ma'am,  I  never  put 
an  innocent  man,  woman,  or  child  in  jail  in  my 
life.  You  can  gamble  an'  go  the  limit  that  if  I 
wrap  a  calaboose  round  anybody,  he'll  deserve  it 
all  right.  An'  anyway,  I  ain't  puttin'  a  soul  in 
jail  just  now.  You  can  see  for  yoreself  I  ain't." 

"  I  sha'n't  bandy  words  with  you! " 

"  Don't  bandy  'em,  ma'am.  It  sounds  queer, 
like  bow-legs  or  somethin'.  Try  talkin'  pleasant. 
It  may  come  hard  at  first,  but  yuh'll  get  used  to 
it  after  a  while." 

"  Didn't  you  arrest  Slim  Dennison  and  Mar- 
shal Simms?" 

"Shore!" 

"  Yet  you  have  the  face  to  say  that  you  don't 
arrest  innocent  people! " 

"  I  guess  yuh  ain't  heard  the  right  of  that 
business,"  Gilmore  observed  dryly,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  enlighten  her.  "  So  yuh  see  what  the 
Hash  Knife  boys  heard  in  Virgin  City  an'  Plain 
Edge  ain't  true,"  he  added  in  conclusion. 

"  None  of  the  Hash  Knife  boys  have  been  to 
Virgin  City,  or  Plain  Edge,  either,  just  lately," 
she  declared.  "  It  was  a  V  Up-and-Down 
puncher  that  brought  us  the  news." 

Gilmore  stared.  The  full  significance  of  her 
words  had  struck  him  forcibly. 

"  Yuh  say,"  he  drawled,  "  that  none  of  your 


130      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

boys  have  been  to  Virgin  City  or  Plain 
Edge? " 

"What  of  it?" 

"  Oh,  no  thin'.  Only  you  warned  me  you  were 
goin'  to  set  'em  on  my  trail  soon's  they  got  back." 

Her  direct  gaze  shifted. 

"  I  changed  my  mind,"  she  told  him — a  trifle 
nervously,  he  thought.  "  And  if  I  did,  it's  my 
own  affair.  Think  yourself  lucky  that  I  did." 

"  I  do,  ma'am,  I  do.  I  think  I'm  a  mighty 
lucky  fellah.  Didn't  yuh  tell  'em  anythin'  about 
our  little  argument? " 

"  None  of  your  business  whether  I  did  or  not! " 
she  returned  furiously. 

"  No,  ma'am,  o'  course  it  ain't.  I  was  just 
wonderin'.  It's  natural  for  me  to  wonder  'bout 
what  I  don't  understand.  I  can't  help  it.  I'm 
obliged  to  yuh  for  thinkin'  of  me  so  much.  Yuh 
remember  I  told  yuh  yuh  would." 

"You  didn't!  I  haven't!"  she  stormed. 
'  Think  of  you !  A  man  that's  mishandled  me  as 
you  have!  I  hate  you!  I  hate  you!  Do  you 
understand?  " 

"  I  understand  what  you  mean,"  he  replied 
with  an  easy  tolerance  that  was  maddening. 
"  But  yuh  don't  hate  me.  Yuh  couldn't  hate 
me,  ma'am.  Why,  yuh  won't  admit  it,  maybe, 
but  you  really  feel  right  friendly  to  me.  Shore 
yuh  do!" 

Louise  Stuart  was  speechless.  Her  fingers 
tingled  to  box  his  ears.  She  was  furious  with  him 
and  with  herself — with  him  for  tantalizing  her  to 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      131 

the  verge  of  hysterical  weeping,  and  with  herself 
for  losing  control  of  her  nerves.  Habitually  self- 
contained,  physically  and  mentally  perfect,  she 
had  remained  calm  and  collected  under  the  stun- 
ning shock  of  hearing  his  voice  over  her  shoulder, 
yet  now  she  was  forced  to  exert  every  jot  of  will- 
power to  fight  off  the  tears.  The  revelation  of 
her  own  weakness  frightened  her. 

He  was  speaking  again  in  his  lazy  drawl. 

"  Yuh  shore  do  look  wonderful  in  a  dress, 
ma'am.  I  wish  yuh'd  smile  once !  " 

"  You  think  you're  very  smart,"  she  said  un- 
steadily ;  "  but  you  won't  think  so  later  on.  How 
long  do  you  imagine  you'll  keep  those  men  pris- 
oners? " 

"  Oh,  some  little  time,  some  little  time.  Long 
enough,  I  guess." 

"  Not  in  Plain  Edge/you  won't." 

"  No,  not  in  Plain  Edge — in  Warrior's  Mark. 
Yuh  see,  ma'am,  when  yuh  said  the  whole  county 
had  taken  sides,  yuh'd  forgot  the  Mark.  It  seems 
to  be  about  the  one  place  that's  fairly  neutral ;  so 
I  took  'em  there.  They're  there  now.  I  don't 
think  anybody'll  get  'em  away  in  a  hurrry." 

"You'll  see!" 

"  I'm  always  seem'.  It's  my  business.  Along 
with  that  I'll  be  seein'  you  again  mighty  soon." 

"  But  not  the  way  you  think."  Her  smile  was 
chilling. 

"Hands  up!"  rapped  out  a  harsh  voice  in 
Gilmore's  ear. 

Gilmore  immediately  elevated  his  arms.    His 


132      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

soul  writhed  within  him,  but  his  eyes  and  mouth 
smiled  at  Miss  Stuart. 

"  Yuh  might  have  said  somethin',"  he  re- 
proached her. 

"  Lou,"  called  the  voice  in  his  rear,  "yuh  might 
get  the  gentleman's  gun." 

Miss  Stuart  stretched  out  an  arm  and  pos- 
sessed herself  of  Gilmore's  six-shooter.  She  also 
prodded  him  here  and  there  in  search  of  a  hide- 
out; but  she  overlooked  the  back  of  his  neck, 
where  the  hilt  of  his  bowie  caressed  the  skin. 

"  He  hasn't  anything  else,"  she  announced,  ris- 
ing and  moving  a  few  yards  to  one  side. 

"  Yuh  can  put  yore  hands  down  now,"  an- 
nounced the  voice,  "  an'  yuh  can  get  up  an'  turn 
round." 

Gilmore  obeyed.  Twenty  feet  distant  stood 
two  men.  The  younger  of  the  two  was  Louise's 
brother,  Lanky,  he  of  the  Lucifer-like  counte- 
nance. The  other  was  a  tall,  fierce-eyed  old  citizen 
with  a  stubby  white  mustache.  It  was  the  latter 
individual  who  was  holding  up  the  deputy. 

"  Say,  what  was  yuh  cloin'  here,  Sis? "  Lanky 
queried  in  a  surprised  tone,  his  eyes  roving  from 
the  mirror  on  the  ground  to  his  sister's  coiffure. 
"  Prinkin',  huh?  Well,  I'll  be 

"No  cussin'  in  front  of  her,  Lanky!"  inter- 
rupted the  old  man.  "  How  many  times  have 
I " 

"Well,  look  at  her!"  Lanky  argued  in  self- 
defense.  "  First  she  stops  smokin',  an'  says  it 
ain't  womanly.  Then  she  puts  on  dresses,  an' 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      133 

now  she  comes  cavortin'  out  here  an'  goes  to 
prinkin'  up  her  hair  where  nobody  can  see  her; 
an'  we  follow  her  an'  find  her  a-sittin'  under  a 
rock  an'  talkin'  with  this  deputy.  It  might  pay 
us  to  look  into  this ! " 

Gilmore's  heart  leaped  at  Lanky's  words.  He 
turned  his  head  and  deliberately  winked  at  Miss 
Stuart.  That  young  lady  looked  through  him 
and  bent  down  to  pick  up  her  looking-glass. 

'  You  always  were  a  good-natured  fool, 
Lanky,"  she  flung  over  her  shoulder.  '  You'll  be 
having  me  a  spy  next.  Why  don't  you  say  right 
out  that  I  had  an  engagement  with  this  deputy 
right  here  on  this  spot?  " 

"  I  don't  say  that,"  grunted  Lanky. 

*  Yuh'd  better  not,  if  yuh  know  what's  good 
for  yuh,"  came  in  ominous  tones  from  the  older 
man.  "  Yore  sister  has  a  right  to  act  just  as 
she  pleases,  an'  I'll  shorely  admire  to  see  any 
son  of  mine  try  to  make  her  do  different.  Shut 
up !  Not  a  yap  out  o'  yuh !  Where's  yore  boss, 
Mr.  Deputy? " 

"  Hoss,  boss ! "  repeated  Gilmore  in  pained  as- 
tonishment. "  Yuh  mean  my  boss?  " 

"  Don't  try  to  be  funny.  I  mean  yore 
boss." 

"  Oh,  my  boss !  Shore,  my  boss,  my  little  four- 
legged  cayuse.  Poor  HT  fellah,  he  ran  away  just 
before  you  sports  drifted  in.  It's  shore  a  ca- 
lamity, but  it  can't  be  helped." 

He  grinned  cheerfully  at  his  captor.  The  lat- 
ter glared. 


134      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Lanky,"  he  said,  "  s'pose  yuh  ride  round  be- 
hind that  hill  an'  see  if  the  hoss  ain't  there!  " 

"  I  take  it  yo're  Mr.  Alec  Stuart,"  hazarded 
Gilmore,  when  Lanky  had  gone. 

The  other  nodded  surlily. 

"Don't  be  afraid  to  laugh,"  continued  Gil- 
more.  "  I  can  see  yuh  ain't  used  to  it,  but  try 
it  once,  anyway.  It's  good  for  the  liver." 

"  Yo're  the  gent  helped  out  my  daughter  an' 
me  when  Tom  Johnson's  boys  jumped  us  over 
on  Taylor's  Ridge,"  old  Stuart  observed  smile- 
lessly.  "  I'm  obliged  to  yuh  for  that,  a  heap 
obliged,  but  don't  think  for  a  minute  it's  goin'  to 
be  of  much  use  to  yuh.  Yuh  haven't  no  business 
here,  none  whatever.  Yuh  come  here  makin' 
trouble.  We  don't  want  no  trouble.  I  guess 
there's  only  one  way  for  us  to  keep  out  of  trouble, 
an'  that's  by  hangin'  you." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that,"  cautioned  Gilmore. 
'  Yuh  might  regret  it  some  time." 

"  I  might,  an'  then  again  I  mightn't.  What 
for  did  yuh  arrest  Slim  Dennison  an'  Tim 
Simms?  " 

Gilmore  stretched  his  arms  aloft  and  yawned. 

'  Yuh  make  me  tired,  old-timer,"  he  observed. 
"  I  ain't  got  time  to  answer  any  questions — 
special  if  I'm  a-goin'  to  be  stretched." 

"Iguessyuh'llbethat!" 

"  Well,  there's  a  tamarack  over  yonder  a  little 
ways.  It  looks  like  it  ought  to  hold  me  up." 

"  Yuh  won't  be  stretched  to-day,  nor  yet 
maybe  to-morrow;  but  by  the  day  after  it's  likely 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      135 

yuh  will  be.  Yuh  see,  my  intention  is  to  try  yuh 
all  fair  an'  square,  an'  to  do  that  the  V  Up-an'- 
Down'll  have  to  help.  I'll  do  the  right  thing  by 
yuh.  It  won't  be  no  lynchin'.  It'll  be  a  reg'lar 
law-abidin'  hangin'.  I  know  yo're  a  deputy,  but 
us  citizens  of  Glenn  County  didn't  ask  yuh  to 
come  round  here.  We  can  'tend  to  our  own  af- 
fairs, an'  we  will.  Here  comes  Lanky  leadin'  a 
dun.  I  kind  o'  thought  there'd  be  a  boss  cached 
behind  that  hill.  Yuh  gen' rally  pack  yore  hand- 
cuffs in  yore  war-bags,  don't  yuh? " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IT  is  difficult  to  preserve  an  outward  appear- 
ance of  cheer  when  one's  wrists  are  wearing  hand- 
cuffs ;  yet  Gilmore  accomplished  the  feat.  When 
he  was  not  genially  inquiring  as  to  the  number 
of  cows  rustled  by  Alec  Stuart  and  his  sportive 
offspring,  he  was  whistling  "  The  Rakes  of  Mal- 
low "  and  other  blithesome  airs. 

From  his  captors  he  obtained  no  satisfaction 
as  he  rode.  The  two  men  flanked  him,  the  girl 
brought  up  the  rear,  and  all  three  rode  in  solemn 
silence. 

When  they  reached  the  Hash  Knife,  men  came 
running  from  the  ranch-house,  the  corrals,  and 
the  bunk-house.  They  surrounded  the  little  cav- 
alcade, staring  at  Gilmore  with  extreme  disfavor. 
Besides  Louise's  five  other  brothers,  Gilmore 
counted  sixteen  punchers.  Hard-looking  folk, 
these  sixteen,  quite  on  a  par,  apparently,  with 
the  six  Stuart  boys. 

Gilmore's  serene  blue  eyes,  resting  casually  on 
each  in  turn,  ranged  round  the  assemblage.  Last 
he  faced  old  Alec  and  smiled. 

"  Quite  a  crowd  yuh've  got,"  he  drawled.  "  I 
wonder  just  how  many  will  be  leavin'  us  before 
the  year's  out!" 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      137 

"  You  will,  for  one,"  was  Stuart's  pointed  re- 
minder. 

"  I'll  do  that,  all  right,  but  not  the  way  yuh 
think.  Somehow,  old-timer,  I  can't  see  myself 
bein'  stretched.  In  the  first  place,  it  wouldn't  be 
comfortable;  in  the  second  place,  I'm  too  busy; 
an'  in  the  third,  I  aim  to  be  some'eres  else  when 
the  happy  event  takes  place.  An'  to  make  the 
affair  a  success  I'd  have  to  be  here.  I'm  sorry  to 
disappoint  yuh,  but  yuh  see  how  it  is." 

"  I  see,"  'Stuart  nodded,  "  an'  so  will  you!  " 

"  I  always  do.  Done  it  since  I  first  opened 
my  eyes.  Do  yuh  aim  to  keep  me  here  all  day,  or 
do  I  get  somethin'  to  eat?  Last  time  I  was  in- 
vited to  rest  my  hat  I  got  fed,  an'  fed  plenty. 
Just  now  I  could  eat  a  raw  dog." 

"  Yuh'll  be  fed  an'  watered,"  replied  Stuart. 
"  Tom,  you  an'  Bob  take  all  the  tools  out  o'  the 
blacksmith-shop.  We'll  keep  him  in  there  till 
Jack  an'  his  outfit  get  here.  Bill,  yuh  better 
caper  over  to  the  V  Up-an'-Down  quick  an' 
right  away,  an'  bring  'em  back  with  yuh." 

The  men  receiving  the  orders  started  to  exe- 
cute them  without  delay.  They  did  not  even  look 
over  their  shoulders  as  they  went.  It  was  only 
too  evident  that  old  Alec's  word  was  law  at  the 
Hash  Knife. 

Gilmore's  heart  did  not  slow  a  beat.  To  be 
cast  down  in  the  face  of  defeat  had  never  been 
his  habit;  and  in  this,  probably  the  tightest  corner 
of  his  career,  he  was  more  sunnily  flippant  than 
usual.  He  ate  his  dinner  with  a  good  appetite, 


138      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

and  topped  the  meal  with  two  pieces  of  pie  and 
three  cups  of  coffee. 

*  Yuh  gotta  eat  in  my  business,"  he  observed  to 
the  slim  youngster  with  the  broken  nose,  who  was 
guarding  him.  "  Caperin'  round  after  you  law- 
breakers is  one  sure  cure  for  dyspepsy! " 

'  Yore  ailments  won't  bother  yuh  none  after 
a  while,"  the  other  smiled  back. 

"  You,  too?  An'  I  did  have  hopes  for  you. 
Yuh  look  right  sensible,  not  to  say  almost  human. 
So  yuh  think  the  way  yore  old  man  does,  do 
yuh?  Well,  well,  ain't  that  just  too  curious? 
Gimme  a  match,  will  yuh? " 

Dinner  over,  they  put  him  in  the  blacksmith- 
shop,  and  effectively  jammed  the  door  by  leaning 
a  crowbar  bracewise  under  the  latch. 

"  Jack  Shaw'll  be  over  here  to-morrow,  so 
yuh  won't  have  long  to  wait,"  were  Bob  Stuart's 
parting  words  bawled  through  the  crack. 

"  Yuh'll  have  to  fetch  him  quicker'n  that  if  yuh 
want  me  to  see  him,"  Gilmore  flashed  back. 

A  taunting  laugh,  and  Bob  was  gone. 

There  were  no  windows  in  the  shop,  but  Gil- 
more,  stumbling  in  the  darkness,  found  a  seat  on 
a  nail-keg  by  the  simple  expedient  of  falling  over 
it.  After  many  efforts — for  they  had  handcuffed 
him  as  soon  as  he  had  eaten — he  contrived  to 
reach  a  long  forefinger  down  into  the  off  pocket 
of  his  chaps.  He  poked  about  beneath  two  extra 
bags  of  tobacco  for  a  space,  then  withdrew  the 
finger  with  an  exclamation  of  deepest  satisfac- 
tion. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      139 

"  Fine  an'  dandy !  "  he  muttered.  "  Father  an' 
his  little  helpers'll  shore  wish  they'd  gone  through 
me  with  a  fine-tooth  comb  before  putting  me  in 
here!" 

He  laughed  silently,  and  proceeded  to  la- 
boriously construct  and  light  a  cigarette — an 
operation  rather  badly  impeded  by  the  hand- 
cuffs. 

When  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  dark- 
ness, he  moved  slowly  around  the  four  walls  and 
took  stock  of  his  surroundings.  The  little  shop 
was  a  solidly-constructed  building  of  squared 
logs,  with  a  floor  of  beaten  earth.  At  one  side 
was  the  forge  of  adobe,  beside  it  was  the  water- 
tub,  opposite  were  several  wagon-wheels,  a  small 
pile  of  horseshoes,  and,  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
the  nail-keg  on  which  he  had  been  sitting.  There 
was  nothing  else.  Certainly  there  was  nothing 
that  he  could  use  as  a  weapon,  but  he  found  near 
the  forge,  half-buried  in  dirt,  a  stick  with  a 
charred  end  that  had  evidently  seen  service  as  a 
poker. 

"  Just  what  I  needed ! "  he  breathed  delight- 
edly, and  carefully  covered  the  stick  with  more 
dirt. 

He  smoked  another  cigarette,  then  lay  down 
in  the  cleanest  place  he  could  find  and  went  to 
sleep. 

A  light  in  his  eyes  awakened  him.  He  blinked 
and  sat  up.  The  light  came  from  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  shining  through  the  open  doorway. 
In  the  opening  stood  Louise  Stuart. 


140      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Gilmore  struggled  to  his  feet.  He  nodded  ap- 
provingly. 

"  I  shore  like  yore  clo'es,"  he  observed.  :<  That 
there  blue  dress  looks  awful  good  on  yuh.  Yo're 
still  wearin'  that  ribbon,  too.  Keep  right  on 
a-doin'  it.  Honest,  yuh  look  like  somethin'  that's 
almost  too  good  to  be  true.  Like  a  angel,  I 
mean!" 

"  This  is  no  time  to  pass  compliments,"  she  said 
sharply,  coming  forward.  "  You  don't  seem  to 
realize  that  you  have  got  yourself  into  a  serious 
situation.  To  put  it  bluntly,  you  may  not  see  the 
sun  set  to-morrow  evening." 

*  Well,  now,  I'd  be  right  sorry  not  to.  I  like 
sunsets,  don't  you — all  red  an'  yaller  an'  goldy- 
green? " 

Frank  impatience  was  patent  in  her  amber 
eyes.  She  struck  her  palms  together. 

"  Stop  joking!  I  have  a  proposition  to  make 
to  you." 

"  Now,  that's  what  I  call  talking.  Take  a 
chair,  ma'am — I  mean,  take  a  nail-keg.  I'll  stand 
in  front  so's  the  sun  won't  hit  yuh  in  the  eyes." 

"  You  needn't  trouble  yourself.  Stand  still, 
can't  you?  How  can  I  talk  connectedly  with 
you  strolling  about  like  a  lost  calf? " 

"  All  right,  ma'am,  I'm  stiller'n  a  fence-post. 
Watch  me!" 

She  gazed  up  at  him,  and  he  wondered  how  it 
would  feel  to  run  his  fingers  through  her  hair. 

".It  looks  just  like  silk,"  he  said  aloud. 

"What  looks— oh!    Don't  you  think  it's  the 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      141 

least  bit  rude  to  comment  upon  a  girl  in  her 
presence? " 

"  I  should  say  not,"  he  replied,  shaking  his 
dark  head.  "  No,  sir,  not  when  the  lady's  as  goocl- 
lookin'  as  you  are.  I  can't  help  talkin'  about  yuh 
when  yo're  round.  Yo're  wonderful !  " 

Obviously  startled,  she  bit  her  lip.  The  slow 
red  colored  cheeks  and  chin. 

"  Yo're  prettier  right  now  than  any  sunset  that 
ever  was,"  pronounced  the  appreciative  Gilmore. 

"  Please  don't,"  she  entreated  earnestly.  "  I — 
I  wish  you  wouldn't — not  now.  Just  listen,  do! 
My  father  says  that  if  you  will  free  Dennison 
and  Simnis,  and  give  him  your  word  to  resign 
your  office  and  to  leave  Glenn  County  at  once,  he 
will  let  you  go.  Otherwise " 

"  I'll  be  lynched,"  he  finished  the  sentence  for 
her. 

She  nodded,  her  face  suddenly  going  white. 

"  Why  didn't  yore  dad  tell  me  this  himself? " 
he  questioned. 

"  I  don't  know.    I " 

"  Yes,  yuh  clo  know.  He  had  you  bring  his 
message  because  he  thought  yuh'd  have  some  in- 
fluence with  me — now,  didn't  he? " 

To  this  brutally  direct  attack  she  made  no 
reply.  She  averted  her  head.  There  was  a  catch 
in  her  breath.  Suddenly  she  sprang  up,  her 
lithe  figure  tense,  her  eyes  glistening. 

"  It  isn't  fair!  "  she  cried.  "  I  told  them  you 
wouldn't  do  what  they  wanted!  I  knew  you 
wouldn't!  And  they'll  hang  you! " 


142      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

The  blood  pounded  in  Gilmore's  throat.  His 
whole  being  had  a  curious  sense  of  lightness. 
Louise  Stuart  was  taking  his  part!  She  sym- 
pathized with  him !  He  walked  to  her  and  patted 
her  clumsily  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Don't  you  care,"  he  comforted.  "  I  ain't 
hung  yet.  Another  thing,  how  do  yuh  know  I 
won't  take  yore  dad  up? " 

She  faced  him  with  hot  cheeks. 

"  I  know  you,"  she  said  simply.  "  You 
wouldn't  do  it.  The  man  who  had  the  nerve  to 
pull  a  gun  on  Lanky  when  he  had  four  of  his 
brothers  with  him,  and  who  went  against  my  der- 
ringer and  took  it  away  from  me,  isn't  the  man 
to  reneg  now." 

It  was  his  turn  to  redden.  His  heart  sang 
within  him.  Louise  Stuart  was  actually  praising 
him.  He  knew  that  he  was  greatly  favored  of 
men.  Opportunity  knocked.  He  grasped  oppor- 
tunity and  Miss  Stuart's  hand. 

"  Girl  dear,"  he  whispered,  "  I  shore  love  yuh  a 
lot!  I " 

She  tore  her  hand  away  and  fled.  Gilmore, 
feeling  a  trifle  dizzy,  sat  down  on  the  nail-keg. 
The  door  was  open,  but  he  made  no  attempt  to 
leave  his  prison.  He  stared  down  at  the  dirty 
floor,  a  little  smile  on  his  lips. 

Five  minutes  later  Miss  Stuart  returned.  She 
came  no  farther  than  the  doorway.  He  perceived 
that  she  was  breathing  hard.  Standing  there  with 
downcast  eyes,  she  wet  her  lips  several  times  be- 
fore she  spoke. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      143 

"  Wha— what  shall  I  tell  my  father? " 

"  Why,  I  thought  yuh  knew  all  about  what  to 
tell  him." 

Without  another  word,  she  closed  the  door, 
leaned  the  crowbar  under  the  latch,  and  went 
away. 

Gilmore,  grinning  widely  into  the  darkness, 
teetered  on  his  nail-keg.  He  was  still  grinning, 
still  teetering,  when  the  door  of  the  shop  was  re- 
opened a  few  minutes  later,  and  Bob,  the  broken- 
nosed  youngster,  brought  in  his  supper. 

"  It's  a  wonder  you  chunkers  wouldn't  let  a 
fellah  eat  in  the  house,"  grumbled  Gilmore.  "  I 
ain't  partic'lar  who  I  eat  with — rustlers,  hoss- 
thieves,  road-agents,  they  all  look  alike  to  me 
when  it  comes  to  eatin'.  Can't  spoil  my  appe- 
tite!" 

"  You  shut  up ! "  snarled  Bob. 

"My,  my,  what  a  temper  we're  in!  What's 
happened  to  ruffle  up  Bobby  boy's  little  pink  feel- 
ings? Did  it  lose  its  rattle,  or  did  one  of  its 
brothers  steal  its  nursin'-bottle?  " 

"Dam'  yore  soul,  yuh  lousy  deputy!  Shut 
up!"  bellowed  Bobby,  slamming  the  supper 
down  on  the  forge. 

"There  now,  see  what  yuh  did!  Yuh've 
busted  that  coffee-cup.  Naughty,  naughty !  " 

Bob  flung  back  to  the  door  in  a  rage,  just  as 
his  sister  came  round  the  corner  of  the  black- 
smith-shop. 

"  Go  to  the  house  and  get  another  cup  of  cof- 
fee," she  ordered  quietly. 


144      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"Get  it  yourself!"  was  the  counter  of  the 
amiable  Bob. 

Louise  moved  closer  to  her  brother.  With 
narrowed  eyes  she  stared  at  him  till  his  gaze 
shifted. 

"  Do  as  I  say,"  was  her  low-voiced  command. 

Bob  departed  in  the  direction  of  the  house. 
Gilmore,  affecting  not  to  observe  the  family  jar, 
was  slowly  eating  his  supper.  Wordless,  Louise 
stepped  past  him,  gathered  up  the  pieces  of  the 
broken  cup,  and  tossed  them  into  a  corner.  Sfie 
went  back  to  the  doorway  and  stood  leaning 
against  the  jamb.  When  Bob  returned,  she 
took  the  fresh  cup  from  him  and  brought  it  in  to 
Gilmore. 

"  You  like  it  sweet,  don't  you?  "  she  said.  "  If 
Sing  Fah  didn't  put  in  enough  sugar,  I'll  send 
Bob  back." 

But  the  coffee  was  just  right,  and  Louise  re- 
sumed her  place  in  the  doorway.  The  disgruntled 
Bob,  squatting  on  his  heels  a  few  yards  distant, 
sullenly  refrained  from  looking  at  her  or  speak- 
ing. 

Suddenly  old  Alec  strode  through  the  door- 
way. He  nodded  briefly  to  Gilmore  and  shoved 
his  hat  back  from  his  forehead. 

"  My  daughter  says  you  can't  see  my  proposi- 
tion none,"  he  cast  at  a  venture. 

"  Not  one  little  bit,"  declared  Gilmore.  "  I 
don't  wear  a  star  just  to  take  it  off  whenever  the 
first  man  who  comes  along  tells  me  to.  Y'ought 
to  know  that." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      145 

"  Now  don't  be  a  fool,"  argued  Stuart.  "  I 
don't  want  to  have  to  hang  yuh.  I'd  a  heap 
rather  turn  yuh  loose.  It'll  save  a  lot  o'  trouble 
all  round." 

"Look  here!  S'pose  you  were  in  my  place, 
would  you  do  it? " 

"  Shore  I  would,  instanter! " 

"  Yo're  a  liar,  an'  yuh  know  it! " 

Stuart  scratched  his  head  reflectively. 

"  Well  maybe  I  am,"  he  admitted;  "  but " 

"  Then  why  talk  about  it? " 

"  Aw,  leave  the  id  jit  alone!  "  Bob  put  in  from 
the  doorway.  "  Yuh  can't  teach  a  mule  sense !  " 

"  But  I  can  teach  young  fellers  when  to  keep 
quiet !  "  flared  his  father. 

Bob  subsided. 

Old  Alec  turned  again  to  Gilmore. 

"  Can't  yuh  see  what  a  lot  o'  trouble  you'll  save 
by  doin'  what  I  want?  All  yuh  gotta  do " 

"  All  I  gotta  do  is  quit  bein'  a  man,"  drawled 
Gilmore  over  the  edge  of  the  coffee-cup. 

"But " 

"Yo're  millin',  old-timer.  Yuh  want  to  get 
bedded  down  for  the  night." 

Stuart  pulled  his  hat  forward,  wheeled,  and 
went  out.  Gilmore  finished  his  meal  in  silence. 

"  Don't  lose  heart,"  Louise  whispered  to  him, 
as  she  gathered  up  the  few  dishes.  "  Be  ready  for 
whatever  may  happen! " 

The  ubiquitous  Bob  entering  at  that  moment, 
Gilmore  did  not  dare  open  his  mouth  to  question 
her.  When  she  had  gone  out  into  the  twilight, 


146      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

the  door  was  closed  and  Gilmore  was  left  sitting 
on  his  nail-keg  in  the  darkness.  But  he  did  not 
mind — not  in  the  least!  He  dreamed  a  waking 
dream  in  which  amber  eyes  and  honey-colored 
hair  were  the  most  prominent  objects. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TIME  passed,  as  is  its  habit,  but  as  there  was 
no  light  by  which  to  look  at  a  watch,  Gilmore  was 
at  a  loss  to  tell  the  hour.  He  went  to  the  door, 
knelt  down,  and  put  his  ear  to  the  crack  at  the 
bottom.  He  heard  nothing  at  first  save  the  rush 
of  the  wind,  which  had  risen  since  the  sun  set. 
Within  a  minute  or  two,  however,  the  sound  of 
dragging  footsteps  struck  his  ear-drums. 

The  slow-moving  feet  shuffled  past.  Quickly 
the  sound  of  them  was  smothered  in  the  gallop 
of  the  wind.  Gilmore  waited,  his  ear  at  the  crack. 
He  soon  discovered  that  at  regular  intervals  the 
slow  feet  passed  the  door. 

"  He'll  get  tired  o'  that  merry-go-round,"  Gil- 
more  told  himself.  "  I'll  wait  till  he  settles 
down." 

No  doubt  the  man  did  grow  weary  of  his  sen- 
try-go, but  he  varied  the  monotony  in  a  manner 
totally  unexpected  by  Gilmore.  He  stopped  at 
the  door  and  kicked  away  the  crowbar.  Gilmore 
had  barely  time  to  scramble  across  the  shop  and 
flop  down  near  the  wagon-wheels  when  the  door 
opened  and  a  lantern  was  flashed  inside. 

To  all  appearances  the  prisoner  was  sleeping 
peacefully.  The  lantern  was  withdrawn,  the  door 


148      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

was  shut,  and  the  crowbar  replaced.  Gilmore 
sat  up. 

"  Guess  it's  safe  enough  now,"  he  whispered, 
and  forthwith  groped  beneath  the  tobacco-bags  in 
the  off  pocket  of  his  chaps. 

He  found  the  object  of  which  he  had  made  sure 
when  he  was  locked  up,  and  pulled  it  out.  It  was 
a  handcuff-key.  Putting  the  handle  between  his 
teeth,  he  bent  his  head  and  inserted  the  key  in 
one  of  the  locks.  The  cuff  opened  hard,  but  he 
managed  it,  almost  losing  two  teeth  in  the  proc- 
ess. With  one  hand  free,  it  was  no  trick  at  all  to 
unlock  the  other  cuff. 

"  I  wonder  they  didn't  know  cuffs  come  with 
two  keys! "  he  grinned.  "  Good  thing  I  hid  out 
that  extra  key — well,  I  guess  yes!  " 

He  swung  his  arms  and  stretched  luxuriously. 
It  was  good  to  be  rid  of  the  clinking  steel  brace- 
lets. He  drew  out  the  charred  wooden  poker 
from  its  pile  of  dirt  beside  the  forge,  and  cat- 
footed  to  the  door. 

When  the  sound  of  the  sentry's  footsteps  had 
died  away  around  the  corner  of  the  building,  Gil- 
more  shoved  his  stick  through  the  crack  and  felt 
about  for  the  crowbar.  When  he  found  where 
the  end  was  stuck  in  the  earth,  he  adjusted  his 
stick  beneath  it  and  waited  a  few  seconds. 

Judging  that  his  guard  was  crossing  at  the 
back  of  the  building,  Gilmore  shoved  the  end  of 
the  crowbar  free,  but  no  more  than  free.  Jump- 
ing to  his  feet,  he  tried  the  latch.  The  door 
moved.  He  opened  it  gently. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      149 

His  heart  almost  stood  still  as  the  crowbar  be- 
gan to  slide  along  the  ground.  Quickly  he  thrust 
his  arm  past  the  edge  of  the  door,  and  seized  the 
crowbar  before  it  could  fall.  Then  he  pushed  the 
door  open,  slid  through,  and  quietly  closed  it. 
He  laid  down  the  crowbar,  and,  muffling  the 
handcuffs  with  his  handkerchief,  tiptoed  along 
the  front  of  the  shop.  At  the  corner  he  halted 
and  raised  his  right  hand — the  one  holding  the 
handcuffs — above  his  head. 

The  slouching  sentry  turned  the  corner.  Gil- 
more's  arm  came  down,  and  the  handcuffs  struck 
heavily  upon  the  man's  skull.  He  crumpled  for- 
ward soundlessly.  Gilmore  flung  an  arm  round 
his  shoulders  and  eased  him  to  the  ground.  Ex- 
pertly the  escaping  prisoner  divested  him  of  his 
cartridge-belt  and  six-shooter,  and  strapped  the 
belt  round  his  own  waist. 

The  night  was  cloudy,  and  features  could  not 
be  distinguished;  but  Gilmore  breathed  an  ear- 
nest hope  that  the  man  he  had  struck  was  Lanky, 
as  he  turned  him  over  on  his  back  and  snapped 
the  handcuffs  on  his  wrists.  Next  he  gagged  the 
senseless  guard  with  his  own  neckerchief,  grasped 
him  by  the  ankles,  and  dragged  him  into  the 
blacksmith-shop.  He  closed  the  door,  replaced 
the  crowbar  under  the  latch,  and  was  on  the  point 
of  starting  for  the  corrals  when  he  perceived  a 
moving  figure  between  him  and  the  ranch-house. 
Hastily  he  dodged  round  the  corner  of  the  build- 
ing. 

He  crouched  down  and  peered  cautiously  over 


150      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

the  protruding  butt  of  the  foundation  log.  What 
he  saw  was  sufficiently  amazing. 

A  dark  figure  ran  up  to  the  door  of  the  black- 
smith-shop, wrenched  away  the  crowbar,  and 
opened  the  door.  In  a  loud  whisper  a  voice  be- 
gan calling: 

"Mr.  Gilmorel  Mr.  Gilmore,  where  are 
you?" 

Gilmore  arose  and  hurried  forward. 

"  Here  I  am,"  he  said. 

With  a  little  cry  the  figure  turned. 

"  How  did  you  get  free? "  whispered  Louise 
Stuart. 

"  Unlocked  my  handcuffs  an'  knocked  the 
guard  on  the  head,"  he  explained.  "  Yuh  see, 
they  overlooked  my  extra  key." 

"  It's  just  as  well  they  did.  I  didn't  know 
about  the  guard.  I  thought  I'd  just  have  to  let 
you  out.  Where  did  you  put  him?  " 

"  In  the  shop." 

He  flicked  a  thumb  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Let  him  stay  there,"  she  said  with  superb  un- 
concern. "  Your  horse,"  she  continued,  speaking 
rapidly,  "  is  tied  outside  the  little  corral.  Your 
rifle  is  in  its  holster,  and  your  belt  and  six- 
shooter  are  hung  on  the  horn.  Come,  I'll  take 
you!" 

She  grasped  his  wrist  and  ran  with  him  to  the 
little  corral. 

'  What'll  they  do  to  you?  "  he  queried,  untying 
his  horse. 

"  They  won't  do  anything  to  me,"  she  replied 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       151 

impatiently.  "  I'd  like  to  see  them — I  would  in- 
deed! Hurry,  can't  you? " 

"  Yuh've  shore  got  lots  o'  nerve,  ma'am,"  he 
declared.  "Do  yuh  remember  what  I  said  a 
while  back? " 

"  I  d-d-don't  know  what  you  mean." 

Try  as  she  might,  she  could  not  keep  her  voice 
steady.  She  would  have  fled,  but  he  was  holding 
her  hand  too  firmly. 

"  Yes,  yuh  do.  Yuh  remember  I  said  I  loved 
yuh  a  lot.  I  do — more'n  yuh  think.  I've  loved 
yuh  ever  since  that  day  when  I  piled  yuh,  not 
knowin'  yuh  were  a  girl.  Some  day  I'm  a-goin 
to  come  back  an'  marry  yuh." 

Oddly  enough,  she  could  not  find  a  word  to 
say.  She,  Louise  Stuart,  who  had  prided  herself 
on  having  no  feminine  weakness,  who  had  told 
this  man  that  she  hated  him,  was  trembling  all 
over. 

"  Girl,  yo're  the  most  wonderful  thing  God 
ever  made!  "  the  low  voice  went  on.  "  Yo're  the 
one  I've  been  a-huntin'  for  all  my  life.  Will 
yuh  wait  for  me?  " 

He  was  drawing  her  toward  him.  His  other 
hand  was  on  her  shoulder.  She  braced  her  body 
backward. 

"  D-don't! "  she  begged  shakily.  "  Not  now! 
I — I  don't  want  you  to! " 

Instantly  he  released  her. 

"  Yuh'll  never  have  to  do  anythin'  yuh  don't 
want  to,  not  with  me,"  he  told  her.  He  took  her 
hand,  stooped,  and  kissed  her  smooth,  white 


152      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

wrist.    "  I  ain't  forgettin'  what  yuh've  done  for 
me,"  he  said  quietly.    "  I'll  be  back!  " 

He  mounted  and  rode  away.  The  girl's  eyes 
followed  his  going  long  after  he  had  disappeared. 
Slowly  and  very  thoughtfully  she  turned  away, 
went  back  to  the  ranch-house,  and  let  herself  in. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  WEEK  later  Gilmore,  his  face  covered  with 
nine  days'  growth  of  stubble,  rode  in  among  the 
buildings  of  the  Lazy  D  ranch.  Only  the  cook 
was  about,  for  the  morning  was  yet  early  in  the 
making. 

Gilmore  unsaddled  the  dun,  turned  him  into 
the  nearest  corral,  and  walked  calmly  to  the 
kitchen,  where,  in  the  doorway,  the  cook  stood 
staring,  amazement  written  large  on  his  features. 

"  Mornin' !  "  was  the  deputy's  brief  greeting, 
as  he  seated  himself  on  the  cook's  private  chair 
beside  the  door. 

"Who  might  yuh  be,  a-makin'  so  free?"  the 
cook  wished  to  know. 

Gilmore's  peculiar  smile  flashed  at  full  power 
on  the  cook. 

"  I  might  be  'most  anythin',  but  I  am  a, 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  sort  of  a  pilgrim  o* 
the  night.  Anythin'  else  yuh'd  like  to  know 
'bout  what's  none  o'  yore  business? " 

The  cook  would  have  liked  to  know  a  great 
deal  more;  but  there  was  something  daunting 
about  the  stranger's  smile,  and  the  stranger's 
eyes,  for  all  their  careless  merriness,  were  not  the 
eyes  of  one  with  whom  it  would  be  safe  to  pre- 


154      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

sume.  The  cook  was  wise  in  his  generation.  He 
returned  to  his  pots  and  pans. 

Gilmore,  when  he  had  smoked  a  cigarette, 
lounged  into  the  doorway. 

"  Say,  cookie,"  he  said,  "  how's  chances  here 
for  gettin'  a  job?  " 

Something  concisely  impolite  was  on  the  tip  of 
the  cook's  tongue,  but  he  choked  down  the  words. 

"  I  dunno,"  he  replied,  painfully  civil. 
"  Yuh'll  have  to  see  Tom  Johnson." 

"  I'll  have  some  coffee  while  I'm  waitin',"  ob- 
served Gilmore,  holding  out  a  tin  cup. 

To  the  cook's  intense  surprise,  he  found  him- 
self filling  the  stranger's  cup.  And  the  cook  was 
one  who  never  fed  hungry  people  at  odd  times. 

"  Good  coffee! "  remarked  Gilmore,  following 
the  first  sip.  "  Yo're  a  reg'lar  cook!  " 

Heavily  silent,  the  cook  continued  to  prepare 
breakfast. 

Ten  minutes  later  Tom  Johnson,  issuing  from 
the  ranch-house  in  response  to  the  announcement 
of  breakfast,  thumped  by  the  cook  upon  a  dish- 
pan,  perceived  a  stranger  sitting  by  the  kitchen 
door.  A  stranger?  Tom  Johnson  almost  rubbed 
his  unbelieving  eyes.  Then  he  walked  quickly  to- 
ward the  man.  The  latter  met  him  half-way. 

"  Howdy? "  said  Gilmore,  his  cool  eyes  ap- 
praising the  other.  "  I  want  a  job." 

Tom  Johnson,  a  lean  individual  with  a  clean- 
shaven, saturnine  countenance,  whistled  softly 
through  his  thin  lips  as  he  surveyed  Gilmore. 
There  was  meanness  in  Johnson's  slightly  pro- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      155 

truding  upper  lip,  selfishness  in  his  small,  flat 
ears,  and  cunning  malice  in  his  close-set,  mud- 
brown  eyes. 

"  That's  a  right  good  tune  yo're  makin'  a  hash 
of,"  observed  Gilmore.  "  Why  don't  yuh  whistle 
it  right? " 

With  the  greatest  good  nature  in  the  world 
Gilmore  proceeded  to  make  clear  his  point  by 
whistling  the  air  correctly.  Tom  Johnson's  eyes 
narrowed. 

"  Stranger,  who  are  yuh? "  was  his  harsh  ques- 
tion. 

"  Yuh  can  call  me  Gill,  if  yuh  don't  do  it  too 
frequent — Dan  Gill,  if  yo're  partic'lar." 

"What  do  yuh  want?" 

"  I  told  yuh  I  wanted  a  job.  I  want  one — 
bad.  An'  just  to  make  it  plainer,  yuh  need  me — 
bad.  I  can  outshoot,  outride,  an'  outrope  any 
gent  on  the  place,  bar  none.  I'll  be  one  welcome 
addition  to  yore  happy  family,  an'  don't  yuh 
forget  it." 

"Yo're  modest!" 

"  Yuh've  noticed  it?  "  chuckled  Gilmore.  "  It's 
where  I  live,  modesty  is." 

"  Are  yuh  as  good  with  a  Winchester  as  y'are 
with  yore  tongue? " 

"  I  told  yuh  I  could  outshoot  any  sharp  on  the 
ranch,  didn't  I?  That  goes  for  rifle  an'  six- 
shooter  both.  An'  I'm  a  ring-tailed  whizzer  on 
the  draw.  Yuh  didn't  know  it,  did  yuh,  but  my 
gun's  been  coverin'  yore  belt-buckle  for  the  last 
minute!" 


156      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Torn  Johnson  looked  down.  It  was  true.  The 
long  barrel  of  a  six-shooter  pointed  unwaveringly 
at  his  stomach.  He  smiled  wryly.  Then  he 
blinked  his  eyes;  for  the  six-shooter  was  no 
longer  pointing  at  his  stomach.  It  was  back  in 
the  holster  hanging  low  along  the  musical  dem- 
onstrator's right  leg.  Yet,  in  Tom  Johnson's 
sight,  there  had  been  no  perceptible  move- 
ment. 

"  There'd  ought  to  be  an  openin'  'most  any- 
where for  a  feller  with  yore  nerve,  Gill,"  vouch- 
safed Tom  Johnson.  "  Yo're  new  to  this  coun- 
try, I  take  it? " 

"  I  am  to  Glenn  County." 

"  Come  far? " 

"  Some  might  call  it  far,  but  I  like  to  travel." 

"  Figurin'  on  goin'  back  soon? " 

"  Not  right  soon/'  was  the  cautious  reply. 

"  Come  on  an'  eat,"  said  Johnson,  and  headed 
for  the  bunk-house. 

There  were  only  ten  men  at  the  ranch,  Gilmore 
found.  The  other  thirty  were  out  on  the  range 
and  at  the  line  camps.  There  was  a  lot  of  work 
to  do  on  the  range — work  not  strictly  confined  to 
the  raising  of  cattle  for  the  market.  In  short,  the 
Hash  Knife  and  the  V  Up-and-Down  were  rus- 
tling the  Lazy  D  cows.  Tom  Johnson  mentioned 
these  matters  to  Gilmore  in  the  office  after  break- 
fast. 

"  Why,  only  a  couple  o'  days  ago,"  stated  the 
manager,  "  three  o'  my  boys  cut  down  on  one  o* 
the  Hash  Knife  or  V  Up-an'-Down  gents  over 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      157 

west  a  ways.  They  chased  him,  but  he  made  it. 
Had  a  good  hoss,  a  dun,  they  said." 

"  Shore,  duns  are  tough,"  Gilmore  concurred 
smoothly.  "  Got  one  myself.  Are  these  here 
Hash  Knife  fellahs  regarded  hard?  " 

"  They're  all  that.  An'  there's  another  sharp 
yuh  gotta  look  out  for — a  gent  named  Gilmore. 
A  new  deputy  he  is,  an'  for  a  wonder  he's  honest, 
they  say.  He  arrested  Dennison,  o'  the  V  Up- 
an'-Down,  an'  Tim  Simms,  the  marshal  o'  Virgin 
City,  an'  took  'em  north.  I  ain't  got  no  use  for 
either  o'  'em,  so  I'm  glad  it  had  to  happen ;  but 
this  Gilmore'd  just  as  soon  arrest  you  or  anybody 
who  didn't  ride  to  suit  him.  O'  course,  he'll  cash 
sooner  or  later.  If  he  crosses  my  trail,  he  shore 
will;  but  anyway  yuh  better  watch  out  for  him 
while  yo're  cavortin'  round." 

"  I  never  was  in  a  cattle  war  before,"  said  the 
other  hesitatingly. 

"  What's  a  matter,  Gill?  Idea  make  yuh  nerv- 
ous?" 

"  I  guess  yuh  don't  mean  that,"  drawled  Gil- 
more,  his  smile  very  much  in  evidence. 

"  I  guess  I  don't.  Whatever  yuh  are,  y'ain't 
afraid.  Now  look  here,  I  got  a  job  for  yuh. 
Yo're  bein'  a  stranger  makes  it  easy.  I  thought 
of  it  soon's  yuh  said  yuh  were  new  to  Glenn 
County.  What'll  yuh  take  to  hire  out  to  the 
Hash  Knife  an'  kill  old  Alec  Stuart  the  first 
chance  yuh  get? " 

"  Five  hundred  dollars,"  Gilmore  replied 
promptly. 


158      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Too  much !    Give  you  two  fifty." 

"  Say,  whadda  yuh  think  I  am? "  demanded 
the  indignant  Gilmore.  "  My  life  is  worth  a 
sight  more  to  me  than  a  measly  five  hundred  dol- 
lars, but  I'm  willin'  to  risk  it  for  that,  an'  not  a 
cent  less." 

"  Say  three  hundred.  I  ain't  made  o'  money, 
man!  I  can't  stick  my  hand  in  my  pocket 
an'  haul  out  double  eagles  whenever  I  feel  like 
it." 

"  No?  Now  yuh  listen  to  me.  Yuh'll  haul 
out  twenty-five  double  eagles  before  I'll  attend 
to  the  job,  an'  that  goes.  If  yuh  like,  I'll  take 
Jack  Shaw,  o'  the  V  Up-an'-Down,  at  the  same 
price.  Come  a-runnin'!  Bargains  in  assorted 
killin's !  Murders  while  yuh  wait — Dan  Gill,  pro- 
prietor. There  y'are! " 

"  What  do  yuh  know  o'  Jack  Shaw?  " 

Johnson's  eyes  were  snakily  suspicious. 

"  None  o'  yore  business  what  I  know  o'  Jack 
Shaw,"  replied  the  truculent  Gilmore.  "  Just 
because  I  work  for  yuh  don't  give  yuh  license  to 
go  buttin'  in  askin'  fancy  questions." 

"  Y'ain't  workin'  for  me  yet." 

"  No,  but  I  will  be  soon.  Y'ain't  got  a  sport  in 
yore  outfit  to  turn  this  trick  for  yuh.  There 
ain't  another  card  in  the  pack  but  yores  truly. 
Yuh  gotta  take  me — see?  " 

"Oh,  I  dunno  'bout  that!" 

"  What's  surprisin'  to  me,"  Gilmore  pursued 
unheeding,  "  is  that  yuh  ain't  downed  those  two 
jiggers  before  this.  She  looks  like  a  short  hoss  to 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      159 

curry,  but  it  ain't  been  done.  Folks  is  shore  un- 
enterprisin'  round  here !  " 

"  Yo're  sure  makin'  me  yore  friend  for  life," 
Tom  Johnson  remarked  with  caustic  sar- 
casm. 

"  I  expect,"  was  the  serene  reply.  "  While 
we're  talkin'  so  friendly  o'  sudden  death,  ain't 
there  some  other  gent  you'd  like  pushed  off  the 
map?  I  ain't  partic'lar  at  all." 

*  Yes,  there  is,"  Tom  Johnson  admitted. 
"  How'd  yuh  like  to  go  to  Texas?  " 

"Not  me!  I've  been  there.  I  don't  like 
Texas,  not  nohow." 

'  Yuh'd  be  paid  well,  o'  course.  If  yuh  beef 
them  two  thieves,  Stuart  an'  Shaw,  I  want  yuh 
to  go  down  to  Texas  an'  down  a  feller  named 
John  Drummond." 

"Any  address?" 

"  Shore — the  Double  D  ranch,  about  forty 
mile  east  o'  El  Paso." 

"  What  is  he — punch,  foreman,  manager?  " 

"  He's  the  owner." 

"  Owner,  huh?  John  Drummond!  Seems  to 
me  I  heard  how  a  John  Drummond  owned  this 
ranch." 

"  He  does,  but  I  guess  the  John  Drummond 
yuh  heard  of  was  old  John  Drummond.  He 
owned  this  ranch  an'  the  one  in  Texas.  He  died 
'bout  three  year  ago  in  a  El  Paso  hospital,  and 
now  his  son  owns  both  ranches." 

"  I  shore  see  what  you  mean.  Nothin'  small 
about  yuh,  none  whatever!  If  young  John  cashes, 


160      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

are  yuh  figurin'  on  glommin'  onto  the  Texas 
ranch  as  well  as  this  one?  " 

"  None  o'  yore  business !  " 

"  I  said  that  a  while  back — to  you.  That  goes; 
but  yore  business  is  my  business  while  liT  orphan 
Willy  is  doin'  yore  dirty  work.  Yessir,  yuh 
gotta  be  nice  to  Willy,  an'  not  keep  him  guessin'. 
Willy  don't  like  to  guess.  It  strains  his  brain. 
Now  what  was  yuh  goin'  to  say?  " 

"  If  John  Drummond  dies,  I  stand  to  win  only 
the  Lazy  D  out  o'  the  deal,"  Tom  Johnson  de- 
clared sulkily. 

"  Only  the  Lazy  D— that's  tough!  Yuh  de- 
serve 'em  both.  I  was  hopin'  yuh'cl  get  more'n 
the  Lazy  D,  so's  I  could  charge  yuh  more.  How- 
ever, seein'  as  it's  you,  an'  I  like  yore  looks,  I'll 
put  yore  Texas  young  fellah  out  o'  the  way  for 
one  thousand." 

"  Whadda  yuh  think  I'm  made  of? "  bawled 
Tom  Johnson. 

"  Lord  knows,  but  yuh  look  fairly  human. 
Maybe  y'are.  Can't  never  tell.  One  thousand,  I 
said." 

A  crafty  gleam  lit  the  manager's  eye. 

"  Well,  you  don't  expect  to  get  your  money  in 
advance? " 

"  Not  a  simoleon !  Cash  on  delivery  is  my 
motto.  Yep,  I  know  what's  wrigglin'  round  in- 
side yore  roof.  Yuh  think  that  after  I've  done 
yore  little  job  it'll  be  easy  to  snuff  my  light  out, 
thereby  savin'  yuh  money  an'  trouble.  Don't  be- 
lieve it  for  a  minute!  Puttin'  out  my  light  is  a 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       161 

heap  likely  to  ruin  the  extinguisher.  I'll  collect 
from  you,  Mr.  Johnson;  an'  while  I'm  workin' 
for  yuh  I  draw  reg'lar  wages  as  a  hand! " 

"Aw,  say " 

"Say  it!    Say  it!    Do  I  or  don't  I?  " 

"  Yuh  do!  Yuh  do!  I  dunno  why  I  ever  lis- 
tened to  yuh  in  the  first  place.  I  don't  like  yuh  a 
little  bit!" 

"  Yuh  will  'fore  yo're  through.  Everybody 
does.  My  takin'  little  ways  are  shore  winnin'. 
Howdja  like  to  hire  a  friend  o'  mine? " 

"  Is  he  like  you? " 

"  He  ain't  so  tall,  but  he's  just  about  as  wide, 
an'  he  can  shoot  with  both  hands.  To  tell  yuh  the 
truth,  I'd  kind  o'  like  to  have  this  fellah  for  a 
side-kicker." 

"  I  thought  yuh  was  aimin'  to  go  it  alone." 

"  I  don't  remember  tellin'  yuh  how  I  was 
aimin'  to  go  it.  I  want  Jimmy.  I  gotta  have 
him,  or  the  deal's  off." 

"  What  did  yuh  say  his  name  was?  " 

"  Jimmy  for  now.  He'll  tell  yuh  the  rest  when 
he  drifts  in." 

"  I  can  use  another  gun-fighter.  All  right,  get 
yore  Jimmy.  I'll  pay  his  wages.  How  soon  will 
he  be  here? " 

"  Week,  maybe." 

Tom  Johnson  nodded. 

"  I  guess  yore  best  plan'll  be  to  hire  out  to  old 
Alec  first." 

1  Yore  best  plan'll  be  to  leave  me  to  do  it  my 
own  way." 


i62      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Shore,  shore,  help  yoreself !  " 

"  I  mean  to.  Don't  fret  or  ask  questions  if  I 
ain't  always  on  hand.  I  may  be  away  a  week- 
two  weeks  at  a  time.  I'll  be  busy,  all  right.  Now, 
before  I  start  in,  there's  one  formality  to  go 
through — I  want  yore  promise  to  pay  in  writin'." 

"Yuh  won't  get  it!" 

"  Then  I'll  be  leavin'  yuh.    So-long!  " 

Gilmore  started  toward  the  door. 

"  Aw,  come  on  back,"  the  other  grunted.  "  I'll 
give  yuh  yore  fool  I.  O.  U." 

"  I  kind  o'  hoped  yuh'd  see  the  light,"  grinned 
Gilmore. 

"  I've  seen  that  sport  some'eres,  an'  I'd  shore 
admire  to  know  where,"  mused  Tom  Johnson, 
when  Gilmore  had  departed  to  look  after  his 
horse.  "  Gill— Dan  Gill— the  name  don't  tell 
me  no  thin'.  Burn  his  soul,  if  it  wasn't  I  could 
use  him  I'd  'a'  blown  him  apart  for  talkin'  the 
way  he  did.  But  I'll  fix  that,  Mr.  Dan  Gill, 
when  yuh've  done  finished  yore  little  jag  o'  work. 
Yuh  shore  talk  too  free  to  suit  me! " 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  new  hand  fell  easily  into  the  ways  of  the 
Lazy  D.  The  men  accepted  him  without  ques- 
tion. None  essayed  to  try  him  out.  Doubtless 
they  had  perceived  what  had  been  obvious  to  the 
cook  and  to  Tom  Johnson — that  Dan  Gill  was  a 
good  man  to  let  alone. 

Four  days  after  his  arrival,  his  facial  stubble 
having  assumed  creditable  proportions,  Gilmore 
threw  a  saddle  on  the  toughest  of  the  string  as- 
signed to  him  and  set  out  for  Virgin  City.  He 
arrived  late  at  night,  and  dismounted  in  front  of 
the  Ace  Saloon.  The  windows  were  dark.  He 
walked  round  to  the  back  and  beat  upon  the  rear 
door. 

'  Whatcha  want?  "  the  voice  of  Tom,  the  bar- 
tender, growled  through  an  open  window. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Kyle." 

"  She  don't  wanna  speak  to  nobody.  If  yuh 
want  a  drink,  come  round  in  the  mornin'." 

"  Fellah,  wake  the  lady  up,  an'  do  it  pronto! " 

Tom  decided  to  obey.  Mrs.  Kyle  pattered  to 
the  door. 

"  Who  is  it?  "  she  inquired  before  lifting  the 
bar. 


164      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  I'm  from  Warrior's  Mark,"  Gilmore  replied 
in  meaning  tones. 

"  Tom,  you  skip  right  back  to  bed,"  Gilmore 
heard  the  lady  say.  "  This  gentleman's  a  friend 
of  mine." 

The  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Kyle  fairly  hauled 
Gilmore  within.  By  the  light  of  an  oil-lamp  on 
a  chair,  he  saw  that  the  widow  was  fully  dressed, 
that  her  eyes  were  red,  and  that  her  face  beneath 
the  tumbled  mass  of  her  hair  was  swollen  with 
weeping.  She  managed  a  brave  smile  as  she 
picked  up  the  lamp. 

"  Come  on  in  my  room,"  she  said.  "  We  can 
talk  there." 

Once  inside  the  Avails  of  her  room,  with  the 
windows  down  and  curtains  drawn,  the  door 
locked,  and  a  heavy  blanket  hug  from  jamb  to 
jamb,  she  ran  to  Gilmore  and  clutched  his  sleeve. 

"  What  did  yuh  come  here  for?  "  she  exclaimed 
in  a  tense  whisper.  "  Don't  yuh  know  any  bet- 
ter? " 

"  Nobody'll  know  me  behind  these  whiskers," 
he  said,  smiling  down  at  her. 

"  Don't  yuh  fool  yourself!  I'd  know  yuh  any- 
where, whiskers  or  no  whiskers,  and  I  haven't  the 
only  sharp  eyes  in  town.  Jack  Shaw  and  six  of 
the  V  Up-and-Downers  are  here.  You've  got  to 
get  out  before  daylight !  " 

"Well,  maybe  I  will,"  Gilmore  said;  "but  I 
got  a  little  business  to  do  round  here  first.  I 
gotta  see  Smoky,  an'  I  gotta  meet  a  friend.  Any 
strangers  sifted  in  lately?  " 

j 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      165 

"  One — he's  stayin'  over  at  the  hotel.  Rode  in 
two  days  ago." 

"  What  sort  of  a  lookin'  fellah  is  he?  " 

"  Not  so  tall  as  you,  about  your  weight,  yellow 
hair,  gray  eyes.  Looks  young,  but  acts  older." 

"  That's  Jimmy — he's  a  friend  o'  mine.  Say, 
I  ain't  thanked  yuh  for  sendin'  Smoky  with  yore 


warnin'.' 


'  Warnin'  ?    What  warnin'  ?  " 

"  Why,  that  letter  yuh  sent  by  Smoky  warnin' 
me  there  was  a  citizens'  committee  organizin'  to 
trail  me  an'  my  prisoners." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,  that  letter.  You're — 
you're  welcome.  Don't  mention  it.  What  else 
could  I  have  done?  I'd  do  a  lot  more'n  that  to 
play  even  for  my  Sam.  Even!  I  can  never  play 
even !  But  I  can  do  something  anyway.  You're 
sure  Dennison  and  the  marshal  can't  escape?  " 

"  Not  if  I  have  any  luck  at  all.  Don't  worry; 
Slim  will  hang  an'  the  marshal  will  get  ten  years 
—more,  if  I  can  manage  it." 

Tight-lipped,  she  nodded  and  passed  a  hand 
across  her  eyes. 

"  You  didn't  come  here  to  tell  me  the  news. 
What  can  I  do  for  you  besides  notifying  Smoky 
and  your  friend? " 

"  I  was  comin'  to  that.  Can  yuh  tell  me  any- 
thin'  about  the  Fort  Henderson  beef  issues?  " 

'  They  had  one  fixed  for  yesterday.  I  guess 
they  had  it,  all  right.  The  government's  regular 
enough." 

'  'Bout  how  many  cows  do  the  Injuns  get?  " 

* 


166      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Averages  two  twenty  or  two  thirty — round 
there,  anyway." 

"  Djuh  know  who  has  the  contracts? " 

"  I  don't  know  that.    Is  it  important? " 

"  Kind  of." 

"  I'll  try  an'  find  out." 

"Don'tcha  bother— I'll  find  out.  Where's 
Smoky  live? " 

"  You  stay  here,  and  I'll  send  Tom  for  him. 
Want  yore  friend,  too?  " 

"  Might  as  well  have  'em  both.  You  send 
Tom,  then,  an'  I'll  throw  my  boss  in  vore  cor- 
ral." 

When  Jimmy  and  Smoky  Nivette  arrived  in 
tow  of  Tom,  Mrs.  Kyle  ushered  them  into  her 
bedroom.  When  the  door  was  blanketed,  she  sat 
down  on  the  floor  with  her  back  against  it. 

Smoky  was  unfeignedly  glad  to  see  Gilmore. 
Jimmy  greeted  him  with  a  slow  smile  and  a 
slower  wink.  He  looked  younger  than  his  years, 
this  Jimmy.  Even  his  eyes  were  juvenile  in  their 
frank,  almost  wondering  stare. 

Both  listened  silently  as  Gilmore  outlined  his 
work  of  the  past  few  days.  When  he  held  out 
for  their  inspection  the  ace  of  spades  I.  O.  U., 
both  laughed  shortly.  So  did  Gilmore,  as  he  re- 
turned the  precious  bit  of  evidence  to  his  inner 
vest-pocket. 

"  Now  that  we  know  Johnson  wrote  out  En- 
right's  I.  O.  U.,"  drawled  Gilmore,  "  the  next 
thing  to  do  is  find  out  what  that  number  one  hun- 
dred and  ten  stands  for.  Do  yuh  know  the  agent 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      167 

over  at  the  Fort  Henderson  reservation, 
Smoky?" 

"  Shore,  she  ees  one  t'ief,"  was  Smoky's  suc- 
cinct reply.  "  All  tarn  lie,  lie  to  de  Enjun.  Some 
day  Enjun  she  geet  mad  un  geet  hees  hair, 
mabbeso." 

"  Do  yuh  know  the  Injuns,  too?  " 

"  Shore!  Know  dem  well.  Dem  Enjun  Pie- 
gan.  I  have  Piegan  woman  once." 

"  I  guess  we'll  take  a  pasear  over  to  Fort  Hen- 
derson. I  know  they  had  a  beef  issue  yesterday." 

"  So  that's  it! "  Jimmy  murmured  softly. 

"  That's  it,"  said  Dal  Gilmore. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

FORT  HENDERSON  was  a  cavalry  post  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  due  east  of  Virgin  City.  A 
few  miles  beyond  the  post  lay  the  reservation. 
Most  of  the  Indians,  gorged  to  repletion  with 
agency  beef,  and  carrying  their  agency  goods, 
had  departed,  but  some  thirty  families  still  re- 
mained. The  teepees  flecked  the  flats  beyond 
the  agency  buildings.  The  braves,  resplendent 
in  new  blankets  and  much  brass  wire,  stalked  sol- 
emnly about,  or  reclined  in  silent  groups  and 
smoked,  or  sat  in  not  so  silent  groups  and  gam- 
bled away  what  a  benevolent  government  had  so 
recently  bestowed  upon  them. 

Smoky,  followed  by  Gilmore  and  Jimmy,  rode 
in  among  the  wickiups.  Instantly  an  army  of 
assorted  curs  broke  upon  them  in  a  snarling 
wave.  An  ancient  warrior  sitting  in  front  of  a 
large  teepee  raised  a  seamy,  scarred  countenance 
and  uttered  a  succession  of  harsh  gutturals.  A 
fat  squaw  and  six  naked  children  popped  out  of 
the  teepee,  dispersed  the  dogs  with  shrill  outcries 
and  well-directed  pebbles,  and  popped  in  again. 

The  half-breed  spoke  briefly  to  the  veteran  and 
dismounted. 

"  Dees  man  she  ees  Walkin'  Hoss — hees  niece 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      169 

was  my;  woman,"  he  explained,  and  introduced 
his  two  friends. 

Smoky  after  the  long,  carved  pipe  of  red  and 
polished  pipe-stone  had  gone  the  rounds,  began 
to  talk  rapid  Piegan  to  Walking  Horse.  The  old 
man  listened  intently.  When  the  half-breed 
ceased  speaking,  the  Indian  called  to  the  fat 
squaw  and  spoke  at  some  length.  The  woman 
waddled  away. 

Within  twenty  minutes  she  was  back.  In  her 
arms  were  two  cowhides.  They  were  wet,  and 
smelled  to  heaven.  She  spread  the  unlovely 
things  on  the  ground.  One  hide  bore  the  A  Up- 
and-Down  brand,  the  other  Lazy  H-in-a-Circle. 

Gilmore  and  his  friends  smiled  slightly;  for  the 
A  Up-and-Down  brand  is  an  amazingly  simple 
derivation  of  the  V  Up-and-Down.  Any  gentle- 
man wishing  to  make  the  change  merely  takes 
unto  himself  a  hot  iron  and  a  wet  blanket,  crosses 
the  open  ends  of  the  V's,  and  prolongs  their 
sides. 

Again,  from  the  Hash  Knife,  by  adding  a 
semicircle  across  the  top  of  the  brand  and  con- 
necting with  vertical  lines  the  two  horizontal  bars 
of  what  was  formerly  the  handle  of  the  knife,  a 
passable  Lazy  H-in-a-Circle  may  be  evolved. 
True,  the  circle  will  be  rather  more  oval  than 
round,  but  the  wards  of  the  nation  are  not  given 
to  quibbling  about  such  trifles. 

When  the  iron  is  expertly  applied  to  a  cow 
through  the  aforesaid  medium  of  the  wet  blanket, 
the  result  is  a  wound  that  heals  quickly  and  sel- 


170      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

dom  sloughs,  greatly  to  the  owner's  embarrass- 
ment and  to  the  profit  of  the  intelligent  rustler. 

"Slick!"  observed  Nivette,  fingering  the 
brand  on  one  of  the  hides. 

"  Yo're  shore  whistlin',"  grinned  Jimmy. 

"  But  yuh  can  see  where  she's  been  gone  over," 
said  Gilmore.  "  That  Lazy  H-in-a-Circle  is  shore 
a  work  of  art !  " 

"  'Tain't  evidence  enough,"  doubted  Jimmy, 
then  added  hopefully:  "  I  dunno  as  we  need  it, 
do  we? " 

"  Oh,  we  gotta  be  legal,"  was  Gilmore's  virtu- 
ous rejoinder,  accompanied  by  a  quirk  of  the 
right  eyebrow.  "  Smoky,  ask  Walkin'  Hoss  who 
delivered  the  cows,  how  many  of  'em  there  were, 
and  who  had  the  contract." 

Smoky  turned  to  Walking  Horse.  The  In- 
dian's reply  was  not  short.  When  the  clicking 
gutturals  ceased  to  flow,  Smoky's  face  had  lost 
some  of  its  impassivity. 

"  Walkin'  Hoss  she  say,"  announced  the  trans- 
lator, "  dat  five  men  drive  de  cow — two  hunnerd 
un  feefty  cow — one  hunnerd  ten  Lazy  H-een-a- 
Circle  un  de  res'  A  Up-un-Down.  She  say  de 
foreman  o'  de  outfeet  was  name'  Brown,  Tom 
Brown,  un  she  ees  de  one  have  de  contract. 
Dees  Tom  Brown  she  good  frien'  wit'  de  agent. 
By  gar,  I  t'ink  dees  Tom  Brown  she  ees  all  same 
bruddair  wit'  Sam  Jone'  un  John  Smeet'. 
Walkin'  Hoss  she  see  dees  man  many  tarn,  un 
she  describe  heem  varree  good,  un  by  gar, 
Tom  Brown  ees  look  lak  Deeck  En  right!  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      171 

"  I  kind  o'  expected  he  would,"  drawled  Gil- 
more.  "  Let's  go  up  an'  say  howdy  to  the  agent." 

The  Indian  agent  received  them  in  his  office. 
His  name  was  Oyle,  and  it  fitted,  for  his  aspect 
was  oily  and  his  greeting  oilier. 

"  How's  chances  for  a  beef  contract?  "  queried 
Gilmore,  after  introducing  himself  as  one  Riley, 
of  Beardance. 

"  What  price?  "  countered  the  agent,  tenderly 
patting  his  pomaded  brown  hair. 

"  The  usual,  I  guess — twenty-two  dollars  a 
head,  an'  the  contract  made  out  at  twenty-five." 

Oyle  raised  scandalized  hands. 

"  My  dear  sir,  this  is  corruption.  I  cannot 
listen  to  you.  I  must  ask  you  to  leave  at  once !  " 

"  Shore,  but  would  yuh  listen  if  I  made  it 
twenty?  Oh,  yuh  don't  have  to  put  on  yore  holy 
look  with  us.  Dick  Enright  sent  us  to  yuh. 
We're  all  friends  together,  an'  yuh  bet  we  under- 
stand each  other.  Don't  make  any  mistake  about 
that!" 

"  For  whom  are  you  acting?  "  Oyle  asked  with 
a  keen  look. 

"  Myself — ourselves,  I  mean." 

'  What  is  your  brand?  " 

"  Don't  fret  about  any  brand.  It  won't  hurt 
the  flavor  o'  the  beef.  But  I  was  askin'  yuh  if  I 
made  it  twenty  dollars — how  about  it? " 

"But  you  are  so  brutally  direct!"  protested 
the  agent.  "  However,  since  Dick  Enright  sent 
you,  we'll  say  no  more  about  it.  Positively, 
though,  I  couldn't  consider  any  offer  of  more 


172      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

than  eighteen.  Say  eighteen,  and  the  contract 
for  twenty-five." 

"  Say  nineteen,  and  the  contract  for  twenty- 
five." 

"Eighteen  fifty!" 

"  Nineteen.  Why,  at  that  yo're  makin'  fifteen 
hundred  dollars!  What  more  do  yuh  want?  " 

"  You  know  very  well  that  they  can  be  bought 
in  the  open  market  at  fifteen.  Eighteen  fifty  is 
generous — more  than  generous,  I  may  say." 

"  Yuh  may  say  all  yuh  please,  but  yo're  not 
buyin'  these  here  cows  in  the  open  market.  Yo're 
buyin'  from  gents  who  are  givin'  yuh  a  chance  to 
make  fifteen  hundred  dollars  out  of  good  old  easy 
Uncle  Samuel.  The  chance  is  worth  somethin'. 
Fifteen  hundred,  I  said.  That  fixes  her  at  nine- 
teen, which  goes  as  it  lays." 

"  Nineteen  it  is,  then.  Hand  in  your  bid  any 
time  this  month,  and  I'll  attend  to  it  myself. 
After  all,  what's  the  difference?  Have  a  little 
drink?" 

"We  ain't  drinkin',"  said  Gilmore  shortly. 
"  Who's  this  a-comin,'  Smoky?  "  he  added,  as  two 
ponies  clattered  up  to  the  door. 

Smoky,  who  was  nearest  to  the  window, 
glanced  out.  Immediately  he  went  after  his 
gun. 

"  She  ees  ol'  Stuart  un  Jack  Shaw! "  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  loud  whisper. 

"  No  gun-play! "  cautioned  Gilmore. 

Jimmy's  hand  rested  on  the  butt  of  his  six- 
shooter,  but  he  did  not  offer  to  pull  the  weapon. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      173 

Gilmore  sauntered  to  the  doorway.  Old  Alec 
and  Shaw  were  sitting  in  their  saddles,  staring 
with  narrowed  eyes  at  Gilmore's  horse. 

"  What's  a  Lazy  D  boss  doin'  here? "  Jack 
Shaw  was  saying. 

"  I  rode  him  here,"  explained  Gilmore  from 
the  doorway.  "  Nice  day,  ain't  it?  " 

The  two  whirled  in  their  saddles,  their  right 
hands  dropping. 

"  Now,  now,  none  o'  that! "  expostulated  Gil- 
more,  flinging  out  his  hands.  "  I  could  'a'  drilled 
both  o'  yuh  from  where  I  stood  behind  yuh,  an'  I 
didn't.  Yessir,  passed  up  one  thousand  wagon- 
wheels  just  like  they  were  nothin'  at  all.  Don't 
yuh  know  me?  Shore,  this  is  me,  the  original  Gil- 
more,  behind  the  whiskers.  Come  on  in!  No- 
body wants  to  hurt  yuh." 

Old  Alec  and  Jack  Shaw  looked  at  each  other. 
Stuart's  white  mustache  fairly  bristled  with  sus- 
picion. Shaw's  thin  lips  parted,  revealing  sharp 
white  teeth.  Gilmore  saw  the  V  Up-and-Down- 
er's  heavy  shoulder-muscle  lift  and  twitch  under 
the  blue  flannel  shirt,  and  believed  that  he  had 
lost.  To  refrain  from  going  after  his  gun  in  a 
desperate  attempt  to  beat  the  others  to  the  draw 
required  all  of  his  will-power;  but  neither  his 
eyes  nor  his  smile  faltered  for  an  instant. 

Slowly  Shaw's  hand  fell  away  from  the  butt  of 
his  gun.  Stuart's  followed  suit.  The  two  men 
dismounted  and  tied  their  horses. 

Gilmore  turned  back  into  the  room  and  whis- 
pered to  Smoky.  The  half-breed  walked  out, 


174      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  away  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Indian  camp.  In  passing  he  had  fa- 
vored Stuart  and  Shaw  with  a  malevolently 
contemptuous  grin.  When  the  two  entered 
the  room  it  was  apparent  that  they  were  far  from 
being  at  ease. 

"  What's  the  breed  goin'  away  for? "  de- 
manded Stuart.  "  I  tell  yuh  flat,  if  there's  any 
razzle-dazzlin',  yuh  get  my  first  bullet,  Gil- 
more!  " 

"  Keep  yore  shirt  on,"  requested  Gilmore. 
"  Yo're  safe  as  a  baby  in  a  cradle." 

"  Yuh  needn't  think  yore  bein'  on  the  reserva- 
tion'll  help  yuh  any,"  growled  Shaw  with  a  ven- 
omous stare.  "  I'm  watchin'  yuh,  young  feller!  " 

"  Don't  strain  yore  eyes,"  Gilmore  advised 
cheerfully.  "  I  tell  yuh,  no  harm's  meant  by  yuh 
at  all.  If  yuh  think  yuh  need  protection,  ask  Mr. 
Gyle  for  it.  He'll  be  glad  to  help  y'  out." 

But  Mr.  Oyle  was  not  thinking  of  helping  any- 
body out  at  that  moment.  His  chief  concern  was 
for  his  precious  self.  The  last  two  persons  in  the 
world  whom  he  wished  to  see  were  Stuart  and 
Shaw.  In  his  agitation  he  even  failed  to  remark 
that  while  the  deputy  had  introduced  himself  as 
Riley,  of  Beardance,  Stuart  had  addressed  him  as 
Gilmore. 

"  How  did  yore  lynchin'-bee  pan  out,  Mr. 
Stuart? "  Gilmore  asked.  "  I  hope  Mr.  Shaw 
got  there  in  time." 

"  Yuh  better  keep  off  my  range!  "  Stuart  cried 
angrily. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      175 

"  'F  I  catch  yuh  on  mine  there  won't  be  no 
trial,"  Shaw  stated  earnestly. 

"  Now  that's  right  unfriendly.  I  tell  yuh,  it's 
a  dog's  life  bein'  a  deputy! " 

"  A  deputy?  "  shouted  the  agent. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Gilmore.  "  I  guess  I  must 
'a'  forgot  to  tell  yuh.  But  don't  let  me  keep  yuh 
from  attendin'  to  these  two  gents.  I  don't  mind 
waitin'  a  bit." 

"  We  come  about  them  last  bids  of  ours,  Mr. 
Oyle,"  Stuart  remarked  ominously.  '  We  don't 
understand  why  they  was  refused.  We  always 
got  the  contracts  up  to  a  year  an'  a  half  ago — 
never  had  no  trouble ;  but  since  then  we've  been 
beat  out  reg'lar.  Last  month — well,  yuh  know 
what  our  terms  was.  They  was  cut,  an'  we  want 
to  know  who  cut  'em.  An'  yuh  can  gamble  yore 
best  dollar,  Oyle,  that  we're  goin'  to  find  out  who 
was  the  sharp  who  was  low  card,  an'  just  how  low 
that  card  was !  " 

Gilmore  and  Jimmy  burst  into  loud  roars  of 
laughter.  They  whooped  and  stamped  upon  the 
floor  and  beat  each  other  upon  the  shoulder- 
blades.  They  wiped  away  the  tears  and  went  off 
into  fresh  paroxysms.  Smoky  Nivette,  entering 
upon  the  scene  with  two  smelly  cowhides  under 
his  arm,  discovered  them  clinging  to  each  other 
and  chortling  weakly. 

By  a  great  effort  Gilmore  regained  command 
of  his  faculties.  He  took  the  hides  from  Smoky, 
and  opened  them  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the 
agent's  desk.  Pointing  to  the  brands,  Gil- 


176      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

more  turned  to  the  wondering  Stuart  and 
Shaw. 

"  Yuh  see  that  A  Up-and-Down  an'  that  Lazy 
H-in-a-Circle,"  said  he.  "  They're  right  hand- 
some brands,  but  they  don't  belong  to  this  Terri- 
tory. One  o'  'em's  a  Texas  brand,  an'  the  other's 
New  Mexico.  They  was  one  hundred  an'  ten 
Lazy  H-in-a-Circle  an'  one  forty  A  Up-and- 
Down  in  the  last  issue  on  this  reservation.  It 
might  be  interestin'  to  know  how  they  got  here. 
If  you  two  fellahs  will  scrouge  down  on  yore 
hunkers  an'  look  close  at  those  two  brands,  yuh 
can  easy  see  how  they  got  here,  an'  yuh  won't 
need  any  microscope,  either!  " 

There  was  a  crash  of  splintering  glass  beyond 
the  desk.  Mr.  Oyle  was  jumping  through  the 
window. 

'  Yuh  see  how  'tis,"  Gilmore  observed  signifi- 
cantly, jerking  a  thumb  over  his  shoulder.  "  An' 
if  yore  friend  Enright  was  here,  he'd  be  in  just  as 
much  of  a  hurry  as  the  agent." 

'  Enright! "  Stuart  gasped. 

"Deputy  Dick — that's  the  baby;  only  they 
call  him  Tom  Brown  down  here.  I'm  not  askin' 
yuh  to  swallow  it  all  at  once.  It's  kind  of  a 
mouthful  for  yuh  both,  I  know;  but  just  gulp 
away,  an'  the  first  thing  yuh  do  go  ask  old 
Walkin'  Horse  to  tell  yuh  what  the  man  who  got 
the  last  contract  looked  like.  What  he  says'll  do 
yuh  a  heap  o'  good ! " 

Mr.  Stuart  and  Mr.  Shaw  stamped  outside  and 
swung  into  their  saddles. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      177 

"  They  just  can't  get  to  that  camp  fast 
enough! "  Gilmore  remarked. 

"  They'll  be  back,"  said  Jimmy. 

"  Shore,"  Gilmore  agreed.  "  They  want  to  say 
good-by  to  the  agent  man;  but  I'll  go  yuh  ten 
even  that  fellah  won't  be  visible  on  the  sky-line 
this  side  o'  the  fort  inside  a  week." 

'  Yuh  got  a  shore  thing,"  grinned  Jimmy. 

When  Stuart  and  Shaw  returned  to  the  agency 
they  found  Gilmore  sitting  alone  on  the  door-sill. 
Nivette  and  Jimmy  were  leaning  against  a  near- 
by freight-wagon.  Jimmy  was  handling  a  Win- 
chester, and  asserting  in  loud  tones  that  this  par- 
ticular rifle  was  the  straightest-shooting  weapon 
in  the  Territory. 

"  Agent's  still  out,"  announced  Gilmore,  smil- 
ing up  at  the  two  horsemen.  "  One  o'  the  Injuns 
told  me  he  saw  him  on  a  pony  a-hittin*  the  trail 
for  the  fort.  He's  probably  takin'  tea  with  the 
commandant  right  now." 

"  Remember  what  I  said  about  stayin'  away 
from  my  ranch,"  Stuart  warned  heavily.  "  Yuh 
better  not  try  to  force  trouble  on  me !  " 

"  Why,  I  never  thought  o'  such  a  thing  as  trou- 
ble with  you,"  Gilmore  declared;  "but  I  gotta 
come  to  the  ranch.  I  gotta  come,  I  tell  yuh.  Yuh 
see,  I'm  goin'  to  marry  yore  daughter." 

"Louise!" 

"  Ain't  she  the  only  daughter  yuh  got?  Shore, 
Louise.  Who  else?  An'  say,  please  keep  yore 
hands  away  from  yore  belts.  My  friend  Jimmy 
is  right  behind  yuh,  an'  he's  got  a  liT  gun,  an'  he's 


178      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

a-goin'  to  shoot  the  liT  gun  if  he  sees  any  funny 
motions  about  you  two  gents.  Yessir,  he  said  he 
would.  I  heard  him !  " 

"  Lemme  tell  yuh  somethin',  young  feller,"  ex- 
claimed Stuart.  "  Yo're  walkin'  mighty  close  to 
the  fire!" 

"  Meanin' " 

"  If  you've  been  tellin'  any  lies  to  Louise 

"  Now  look  here,  father-in-law-to-be,"  inter- 
rupted Gilmore,  "  I  don't  mind  yore  callin'  me 
names  an'  talkin'  rough,  'cause  yo're  her  father. 
I  don't  mind  it — much.  Still,  I  wouldn't  be  too 
brash,  if  I  were  you.  I  just  wouldn't  give  my  im- 
agination free  rein,  like  the  poet  fellah  says." 

"  By "  barked  Jack  Shaw. 

"  None  of  my  remarks  apply  to  you,"  Gilmore 
cut  in  frostily.  "  I  tell  yuh  flat,  I  don't  like  yuh 
a  little  bit,  an'  any  time  yuh  feel  like  startin'  any- 
thin',  why,  come  a-runnin'.  There  ain't  any  fence 
to  jump — I'm  right  here!  " 

"  Yuh  can  talk  big  when  there's  a  gent  with  a 
rifle  behind  me,"  yapped  Shaw. 

"  Jimmy,"  called  Gilmore,  "  there's  a  close  sea- 
son on  Mr.  Shaw,  so  far  as  yo're  concerned. 
Now,  Mr.  Shaw,  my  time  is  yores!  " 

"  I  ain't  takin'  no  chances,"  grunted  Shaw. 
"  I'll  meet  yuh  some  other  time,  when  there's  just 
you  an'  me  around." 

"  I'll  try  to  be  on  hand  when  that  time  comes. 
Speak  up,  Mr.  Stuart!  I  can  see  yo're  sufferin' 
to  say  somethin'." 

"So  long's  yo're  a-goin'  to  marry  my  daughter 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       179 

so  free,"  said  Stuart,  "  yuh'll  be  glad  to  know 
that  she's  a-goin'  to  marry  Mr.  Shaw  next 
month." 

"He's  a  healthy-lookin'  bridegroom!"  ob- 
served Gilmore,  who  had  not  for  a  single  instant 
ceased  to  keep  both  eyes  on  Shaw.  "I'd  shore 
hate  to  be  you  two  when  Miss  Stuart  hears  the 
glad  tidin's !  But  jokin'  aside,  yuh  might  remem- 
ber what  I  said,  father-in-law,  about  yore  daugh- 
ter. She's  a-goin'  to  marry  me,  an'  don't  try  any 
odd  numbers  tryin'  to  make  her  do  different.  If 
yuh  do,  I'll  hear  of  it,  an'  you'll  pay  for  it.  That 
reminds  me,  Tom  Johnson  offered  me  five  hun- 
dred dollars  apiece  for  the  scalps  o'  you  fellahs. 
O'  course,  dad-to-be,  yo're  out  of  it,  so  long's 
yo*re  a  good  boy;  but  nothin'  like  that  goes  for 
Mr.  Jack  Shaw.  An'  five  hundred  dollars  would 
go  a  long  way  toward  buyin'  pots  an'  pans  an' 
furniture  for  a  liT  shack.  But  I'm  reasonable.  I 
don't  like  to  be  hard  on  folks ;  so  I'm  open  to  an 
offer,  Mr.  Shaw.  What'll  you  gimme  to  down 
Tom  Johnson?" 

Jack  Shaw  was  dumb.  Stuart  opened  his 
mouth  as  if  to  speak,  but  thought  better  of  it,  and 
jerked  his  horse  about. 

"  I'll  see  yuh  again! "  was  Shaw's  parting  re- 
mark, as  he  rode  off  after  Stuart. 

"  Better  see  yore  foreman  first,"  advised  Gil- 
more  in  a  long-drawn  shout.  "  Last  time  I  saw 
Slim,  he  was  askin'  for  yuh  right  affectionate ! " 

But  Shaw  did  not  even  turn  his  head. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"YuH  ain't  goin'  back  to  the  Lazy  D!" 
Jimmy  exclaimed  in  alarm. 

"  Shore  I  am,"  replied  Gilmore.  "  I  wouldn't 
miss  it  for  a  ranch  in  Old  Mexico.  Look  a 
here — Johnson  rustles  the  cows  from  the  Hash 
Knife  an'  the  V  Up-an'-Down,  an'  through  En- 
right  sells  'em  to  Oyle  at,  as  he  thinks,  the  market. 
I  suppose,  seem'  as  they're  stolen  anyway,  John- 
son hadn't  the  nerve  to  ask  more;  but  nothin'  like 
that  bothered  Enright.  He,  havin'  it  ail  fixed  up 
how  he'll  divvy  with  Johnson  at  fifteen  a  head, 
sells  'em  to  Oyle  at  somethin'  over  my  price  o' 
nineteen — twenty,  probably.  Shore,  if  it  had 
been  less  'n  nineteen,  the  agent  wouldn't  'a' 
taken  me  up  at  that  price.  He'd  'a'  stuck  to  his 
old  friend  Deputy  Dick.  It's  as  plain  as  the 
W.  G.  R.  brand,  an'  that  takes  up  the  whole  side 
of  a  cow.  Tom  Johnson'll  see  it — yuh  can  bet 
yore  saddle  an'  slicker  on  that.  An'  what's 
more,  now  that  Stuart  an'  Shaw  know  that  their 
dear  friend  has  been  runnin'  a  ranikaboo  on  'em, 
do  yuh  s'pose  they'll  take  it  sittin'  down,  or  write 
him  a  letter?  Not  if  I  know  'em  they  won't. 
They'll  paint  for  war  prompt  an'  sudden,  an' 
more'n  likely  they'll  head  for  Plain  Edge  as  fast 
as  bosses  can  drag  it !  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      181 

Jimmy  and  Smoky  began  to  laugh. 

"  I  see  it  now,"  said  Jimmy.  "  With  Stuart 
an'  Shaw  knowin'  that  Enright  ain't  their  friend 
no  more,  Plain  Edge  is  liable  to  witness  times." 

"  Yo're  whistlin',  an'  if  they  take  to  wipin' 
each  other  out,  it  ought  to  make  the  job  o'  re- 
formin'  Glenn  County  a  heap  easy,"  chuckled 
Gilmore. 

"  Yuh  long-legged  oF  rascal!"  exclaimed  the 
admiring  Jimmy.  *  Yuh  shore  do  use  yore  head 
now  an'  then!  Say!"— as  Gilmore  swung  his 
foot  sidewise — "  leave  my  cayuse  alone!  I  don't 
allow  nobody  to  kick  him  but  me.  Quit  it, 
can'tcha?  There — ugh! — now  yuh've  set  him 
off— ugh!— an'  I've  just  et!  " 

When  Jimmy  had  reduced  his  emotional  mount 
to  partial  submission  and  resumed  his  place,  Gil- 
more  was  squinting  far  ahead,  where  the  trail 
vanished  between  two  hills. 

"  If  I  didn't  like  a  sharp,"  he  observed,  "  an'  I 
kind  o'  wanted  to  ventilate  him,  an'  he  was  due  to 
ride  this  trail,  I  dunno  but  what  I'd  wait  for  him 
right  there  behind  a  tree  on  one  of  those  two 
hills." 

"  She  ees  a  good  plass,"  agreed  Smoky. 

"  Yuh  bet  she  is !  Jimmy,  s'pose  you  ride  on, 
an'  if  yuh  get  through  without  bein'  downed  or 
nicked,  come  back  an'  tell  us.  We'll  wait  right 
here." 

"  You  go  to  Hell! "  cried  Jimmy.  "  Yuh  talk 
like  I  was  a  cat  or  somethin'  with  nine  lives.  Be- 
sides, my  will  ain't  made,  an'  a  fellah  as  sinful  as 


182      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

me  hadn't  ought  to  cash  without  repentin'  any-» 
way.  An'  I  don't  feel  like  repentin',  nohow." 

"  Well,  if  yuh  won't  go,  yuh  won't,"  Gilmore 
sighed  in  mock  resignation.  "  I  s'pose  we'll  have 
to  circle  those  hills.  I  guess,  though,  if  we  got 
on  top  of  one  of  them,  we  might  be  able  to  see  if 
anybody's  hid  out." 

Accordingly,  they  departed  from  the  trail,  and 
rode  among  draws  and  small,  brushy  flats  for  the 
space  of  three  hours.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
they  were  climbing  the  southern  slope  of  one  of 
the  two  hills.  They  reached  the  top,  dismounted 
in  a  lean  grove  of  pines,  and  went  forward  on 
foot. 

Near  the  top  of  the  reverse  slope  they  lay 
down  in  the  tall  grass,  wriggled  forward,  and 
gazed  downward.  Far  below  was  the  ribbon  of 
trail,  and  beyond  it  rose  the  steep  slope  of  the 
opposite  hillside. 

At  first  Gilmore  saw  nothing  save  the  trees  and 
the  rocks  and  the  grass  waving  in  the  wind. 
Suddenly  something  twinkled  on  the  hillside, 
above  the  trail.  With  the  help  of  the  field-glasses 
he  discerned,  projecting  beyond  a  boulder,  a 
man's  booted  legs.  The  hidden  enemy's  spurs 
twinkled  his  betrayal  as  he  crossed  one  ankle  over 
the  other. 

"  One  of  'em's  behind  that  white  boulder,"  an- 
nounced Gilmore.  "  I  can't  make  out  the  other. 
Let's  work  west  an'  see  if  we  can't  pick  up  their 
horses." 

They  worked  west,  and  in  a  hollow  a  hundred 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      183 

yards  beyond  the  ambushed  citizen  they  saw  two 
horses  tied  to  a  young  sapling. 

"A  gray  an'  a  sorrel,"  observed  Gilmore. 
"  Stuart  rode  a  gray  an'  Shaw  a  sorrel.  It's  our 
dear  friends,  all  right!  Jimmy,  you  take  the 
gray  an'  I'll  take  the  sorrel.  Smoky,  bein'  up- 
wind where  the  smoke  won't  blow  in  his  eyes,  can 
look  out  for  developments." 

The  two  Winchesters  barked  almost  together. 
The  sorrel  collapsed  quietly;  the  gray  gave  a  con- 
vulsive leap,  and  a  scream  of  agony  drifted  thinly 
to  their  ears. 

Jimmy  swore,  and  righted  his  bungle  with  a 
clean  shot. 

"  I  dunno  how  I  come  to  do  such  ragged  work. 
Lookout!" 

Below  them,  on  their  own  hillside,  a  rifle 
cracked,  and  a  bullet  whisped  through  the  grass- 
stems  close  beside  Gilmore's  cheek.  Smoky  sent 
three  rapid  bullets  in  the  center  of  the  smoke- 
cloud.  Gilmore  rolled  backward,  seized  Jimmy 
by  the  ankles,  and  jerked  him  to  safety  behind 
a  rock. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you? "  demanded 
Jimmy,  sitting  up  in  a  rage.  "  I  was  just  cuttin' 
down  on  that  feller  behind  the  white  boulder,  an' 
you  gotta  spoil  it  all!  Yuh  big  id  jit,  yuh  got  a 
nerve,  you  have !  " 

"  That's  old  man  Stuart  behind  the  boulder," 
Gilmore  explained  gently.  "  I  don't  want  him 
downed  'less  it's  absolutely  necessary." 

"  I  know,  but  he'd  'a'  got  yuh  if  he  could," 


184     The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

snarled  the  disgruntled  Jimmy.  "  Yo're  too 
charitable  by  half,  Dal.  I  tell  yuh,  yuh'll  be 
downed  first  thing  yuh  know,  an'  then  yuh'll  wish 
yuh'd  let  me  finish  my  shot." 

"  Maybe,  I  dunno.     Let's  be  wanderin'." 
At  that  moment  Smoky  joined  them.     He  was 
shoving  cartridges  into  the  loading-gate  of  his 
rifle,  and  his  black  eyes  were  glittering    with 
pleasurable  excitement. 

"  Eef  I  deed  not  geet  Jack  Shaw,  I  part  hees 
hair  good!"  he  declared.  "By  gar,  I  do!  I 
deed  not  shoot  at  de  ol'  man  Stuart.  I  t'ink  you 
not  wan'  heem  for  be  shot,  mabbeso." 

*  Yo're  a  mind-reader,  Smoky,"  pronounced 
Gilmore. 

*  You  fellers  make  me  sick!  "  Jimmy  declared. 
"  I  give  up.     Why  not  let's  go  down  an'  buy  'em 
a  drink? "  he  added,  with  elaborate  sarcasm. 

The  three  returned  to  their  horses  in  silence, 
but  the  peevish  Jimmy  refused  to  ride  with  the 
others.  He  brought  up  the  rear,  smoking  ciga- 
rettes incessantly,  and  making  caustic  comment 
on  tender-hearted  charity,  both  abstract  and  con- 
crete. 

By  sunset,  however,  an  afternoon's  self-com- 
munion had  had  its  effect  on  Jimmy.  He  came 
out  of  his  sulk,  and  signified  his  emergence  by 
dropping  a  horny  beetle  down  Gilmore's  neck. 
Then  there  was  a  vigorous  rough-and-tumble, 
which  did  not  end  till  Nivette  wished  to  know  if 
he  was  expected  to  cook  supper  with  people  fall- 
ing over  him  all  the  time. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      185 

"  I  don't  guess  they  could  get  horses  before 
this  mornin',"  Gilmore  remarked,  after  breakfast 
on  the  following  day. 

"  Noon,  mabbeso,"  said  the  half-breed.  "  Dose 
heel  was  t'irty  mile  from  de  fort,  un  dere  was 
no  ranch  nearer  dan  dat.  Dere  ees  no  stage  to 
de  fort — only  de  freight-wagon,  un  dey  do  not 
come  for  two  week.  By  gar,  dem  men  weel  have 
to  walk,  un  dat  weel  tak  long  tarn.  Dey  weel 
have  de  sore  feet  before  dey  get  dere !  " 

"  Will  they? "  Jimmy  asked  in  a  sardonic  tone. 
"  Not  if  they're  in  the  middle  o'  that  cloud  o'  dust 
they  won't!" 

Gilmore  and  Smoky  looked  back  over  the  way 
they  had  come.  Nine  or  ten  miles  distant  a  small 
dust-cloud  was  distinctly  visible  on  wthe  trail. 
Gilmore  whipped  out  the  field-glasses. 

"  Mules ! "  he  announced.  "  Four  of  'em. 
By  the  way  they're  a-comin',  she's  a  light  wagon." 

"Has  de  wagon  a  square,  white  top?"  in- 
quired Nivette. 

'  Yep." 

"  Den  she  ees  de  ambulance  takin'  de  officer  or 
de  officer's  woman  to  de  railroad.  Mabbeso  dey 
meet  Stuart  un  Shaw  un  geeve  dem  a  ride." 

"  In  that  case  we  want  to  know  it.  Here's  as 
good  a  place  as  any,  when  we've  moved  the  bosses 
farther  back.  Yuh  know  a  short  cut,  don't  yuh, 
Smoky,  so's  we  can  get  in  front  of  'em  again? " 

"  Shore — Leetle  Cloud  Mountain.  Dey  mus' 
follow  de  trail  roun',  un  we  can  go  troo  de  canon." 

From  their  vantage-point  among  the  trees  on 


i86      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

the  knoll  where  they  had  made  camp  they  watched 
the  oncoming  mules  and  their  attendant  dust- 
cloud.  When  the  teams  were  six  miles  away, 
they  dipped  out  of  sight,  and  did  not  reappear 
till  they  pulled  out  of  a  draw  not  more  than  four 
hundred  yards  distant. 

They  came  at  a  brisk  trot,  the  creaking  vehicle 
behind  them  so  gray  with  dust  that  the  red  cross 
behind  the  driver's  seat  showed  a  faded  pink. 
It  was  indeed  the  Fort  Henderson  ambulance, 
under  escort  of  two  troopers;  but  neither  dusty 
ambulance  nor  dustier  soldiers  interested  the 
three  on  the  knoll.  Their  attention  was  centered 
on  the  driver's  seat,  where,  beside  the  driver,  sat 
Alec  Stuart  and  Jack  Shaw. 

"  Let's  drag  it,"  suggested  Gilmore,  when  all 
that  remained  to  tell  of  the  ambulance's  passing 
was  a  settling  cloud  of  dust-particles. 

Keeping  two  miles  or  more  in  the  rear  of  the 
ambulance — which  distance  was  not  strictly 
necessary,  for  now  the  trail  ran  among  the  hills, 
and  no  straight  reach  was  more  than  three  or  four 
hundred  yards  long — they  neared  Little  Cloud 
Mountain,  and  turned  aside  into  Little  Cloud 
Canon. 

The  going  was  bad — windfalls  where  there 
were  not  huge  rocks,  and  once  they  had  to  dis- 
mount and  practically  haul  the  horses  between 
two  boulders,  each  of  them  larger  than  the  Ace 
Saloon. 

*  I'm  surprised  the  trail  don't  run  through 
here,"  observed  Jimmy,  thumping  his  discour- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      187 

aged  mount  through  the  crackling  branches  of  a 
windfall.  "  Yuh'd  only  have  to  take  a  freight- 
wagon  to  pieces  about  six  times  to  get  this  far. 
Here's  a  nice  little  pebble  to  have  fall  on  yore 
headi  It  don't  weigh  more'n  twenty  ton  at  the 
outside.  I  s'pose  they  all  come  from  the  moun- 
tain, huh,  Smoky? " 

"  Shore,"  answered  the  half-breed.  "  Dey  fall 
off  w'en  de  fros'  she  loosen  dem  een  de  wintair. 
Een  de  summair  dey  fall  leetle,  not  much." 

"That's  cheerin',"  said  Gilmore.  "Here's 
hopin'!" 

Gr-r-ruck!  Shus-s-sh!  Bam!  Several  rocks 
of  assorted  sizes,  the  smallest  larger  than  a  wheel- 
barrow, plunged  down  the  wall  of  the  canon  and 
smashed  into  the  ground  a  hundred  yards  ih  their 
rear. 

"  They  don't  fall  so  very  little,  at  that,"  was 
Gilmore's  comment.  "  What's  the  matter, 
Jimmy — nervous? " 

"  Me  nervous?  Oh,  no,  not  so  yuh  could 
notice  it.  I  enjoy  havin'  rocks  sailin'  down  all 
round  me.  I  like  it — shore  I  do.  Gives  me  a 
appetite  for  my  chuck,  it  does.  O'  course,  Dal, 
if  yuh  feel  like  yuh  just  got  to  go  slow,  lemme 
get  in  front.  I  think  there's  a  gent  waitin'  for 
me  at  the  other  end  o'  this  canon,  an'  I  don't  like 
to  keep  him  waitin'.  It  ain't  polite." 

Luckily  for  Jimmy's  peace  of  mind  they  won 
to  the  end  of  the  canon  without  witnessing  an- 
other rock-slide.  The  passage  had  occupied  them 
the  better  part  of  three  hours ;  but  from  now  on, 


i88      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

according  to  Nivette,  the  traveling  would  be 
easy. 

Relatively  speaking,  it  was  easy,  and  they  made 
good  progress;  yet  there  is  always  a  fly  in  the 
ointment.  In  this  case  there  was  quite  a  large 
one. 

Coming  to  a  wide  creek,  Nivette  advised 
trotting  across,  the  sole  available  fording-place 
having  a  quicksand  bottom.  The  half-breed 
crossed  without  difficulty,  and  so  did  Jimmy,  but 
not  so  Gilmore.  His  horse  picked  the  exact 
middle  of  the  stream  as  the  most  suitable  spot  to 
stop  and  drink.  Gilmore  howled,  and  employed 
spurs  and  quirt.  The  pony,  usually  an  animal 
of  equable  temper,  laid  back  his  ears,  squealed, 
and  strove  nobly  to  buck.  To  his  frantic  aston- 
ishment, he  found  himself  unable  to  move  his 
legs.  Fetlock  deep  in  the  sucking  grip  of  the 
quicksand,  he  was  slowly  sinking  deeper. 

His  equine  brain  rocked  on  its  bed-plates. 
Rank  terror  descended  upon  him,  and  he 
screamed. 

"Shut  up,  yuh  id  jit!"  exclaimed  Gilmore, 
hastily  unstrapping  his  rope.  *  Yuh  don't  de- 
serve to  get  out.  I'd  ought  to  leave  yuh  right 
here!" 

Working  swiftly  and  expertly,  Gilmore  con- 
trived to  pass  his  rope  around  the  horse's  body, 
just  behind  the  shoulders.  He  made  a  bowline, 
and  flung  the  end  ashore  to  the  waiting  Jimmy, 
who  snubbed  it  round  his  saddle-horn.  The  half- 
breed,  whirling  a  small  loop,  made  a  good  throw 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      189 

and  fastened  on  Gilmore's  horn.  Gilmore  freed 
the  rope  and  made  it  fast  to  the'bowline  on  the 
side  opposite  the  knot. 

The  pony  was  down  to  his  hocks  when  the  two 
horses  ashore  began  to  pull.  Holding  the  terri- 
fied animal's  nose  above  water,  Gilmore  looked 
down  and  saw  the  ripples  chase  one  another  be- 
tween his  mount's  ears  before  the  steady  tug 
from  the  shore  had  any  effect. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  the  pony's  legs  were  torn 
free.  His  head  went  under  as  he  turned  on  his 
side;  but  the  two  horses  on  the  ropes  were  going 
fast  now.  With  Gilmore  out  of  the  saddle,  and 
hanging  for  dear  life  to  the  horn,  the  half- 
drowned  animal  was  pulled  from  the  water  and 
skated  up  on  the  bank. 

'  This  is  lovely,  this  is ! "  cried  Gilmore  when 
he  discovered  that  his  mount  would  require  at 
least  half  a  day's  rest  before  he  could  proceed. 
"Twelve  hours'  delay!  They'll  get  to  Virgin 
City  ahead  of  us,  that's  a  cinch!  " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

EARLY  in  the  following  evening  the  three  rode 
into  Virgin  City,  and  went  at  once  to  the  rear 
door  of  the  Ace  Saloon.  In  the  saloon,  and  in 
the  street  beyond,  sundry  folk,  each  after  his 
fancy,  were  busily  establishing  the  fact  that  it 
is  a  white  man's  inalienable  prerogative  to  pur- 
sue pleasure  as  fast  as  he  sees  fit.  One  of  those 
in  the  street  was  pursuing  it  on  a  pony.  He  em- 
phasized his  enjoyment  with  loud  yells,  and  at 
short  intervals  fired  his  revolver. 

In  the  saloon  a  fiddle  was  jigging  forth  the 
heartsome  strains  of  the  "Arkansaw  Traveler." 
Many  boot-heels  were  scraping  the  splintery 
planks,  while  an  enthusiastic  trio  bellowed  the 
words.  To  add  to  the  'general  harmony,  an  in- 
fant in  the  house  next  door  was  voicing  at  the  full 
top  of  lusty  lungs  his  disgust  for  a  grown-up 
world. 

Gilmore  had  dismounted,  and  was  approaching 
the  door,  when  it  opened  and  a  man  emerged. 
He  was  far  gone  in  liquor,  this  citizen.  He  did 
not  attempt  to  close  the  door.  Staggering, 
mumbling  to  himself,  he  made  his  uneven  way 
to  the  wood-pile,  where  he  sat  down  and  began  in 
all  solemnity  to  remove  his  boots. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      191 

"  Evenin' !  "  was  Gilmore's  greeting,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  inebriated  one.  "  Have  yuh  seen 
Stuart  or  Shaw  anywhere  round  to-night?  " 

"  Sh-shore,  they're  inside,  both  of  'em/'  the 
other  answered.  "An'  ain't  Jack  d-d-drunk? 
If  I  ever  gug-got  as  pup-pup-pie-eyed  as  that — 
bub-but  I  wouldn'.  Nun-not  me !  I  know  when 
I've  had  enough,  an' — an' — I  al'ays  pup-pup- 
pup-pack  my  m-m-m  money  in  my  bub-boots !  " 

Gravely  he  upended  one  boot  and  poured 
therefrom  several  silver  dollars  and  four-bit 
pieces.  They  rolled  this  way  and  that,  to  the 
perplexity  and  mental  anguish  of  their  owner. 
Overwhelmed  by  his  troubles,  he  toppled  over  on 
his  face  and  lay  weeping  among  his  scattered 
money  and  the  morning's  kindling-wood. 

Gilmore  stepped  over  him  and  returned  to  the 
open  door.  He  stood  a  little  on  one  side  of  the 
doorway  and  reflected.  He  wished  very  much 
to  enter  the  Ace  Saloon  and  hold  speech  with 
Mrs.  Kyle.  His  desire  to  avoid  trouble  with 
Mr.  Stuart  was  equally  strong.  Stronger  than 
both  these  things  was  his  dislike  for  a  policy  of 
side-stepping.  To  dodge  a  row  or  run  out  of 
one  had  never  been  his  custom. 

He  peered  through  the  doorway.  Across  the 
darkness  of  the  back  room  and  the  short  hall, 
whose  doors  were  flung  wide,  he  could  see  into 
the  garish  brightness  of  the  barroom  itself.  The 
dancers  whirled  among  the  eddying  wreaths  of 
tobacco-smoke.  The  customers  at  the  bar  were 
making  very  merry. 


192      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Stuart  and  Shaw  were  nowhere  visible,  but 
Gilmore  supposed  that  they  must  be  at  one  of  the 
small  tables  opposite  the  t>ar.  He  stepped  into 
the  back  room,  hoping  that  he  might  find  some 
one  to  take  a  message  to  Mrs.  Kyle,  when  he 
heard  her  voice.  It  came  from  the  hall  between 
the  back  room  and  the  saloon. 

"  Leave  me  alone! "  she  was  exclaiming  in  a 
tense  whisper. 

"Aw,  Mary  jane,  yuh  needn't  be  so  almighty 
finicky! "  protested  a  man's  voice — that  of  Jack 
Shaw.  "After  the  way  yuh  carried  on  with  - 

Smack!  A  hearty  slap  interrupted  him  right 
there. 

"Another  yap  out  o'  you,  and  I'll  kill  you! " 
was  the  woman's  furious  threat. 

"  Come  here !  "  ordered  Shaw. 

There  was  a  rip  as  of  a  fabric  tearing,  and 
Mrs.  Kyle  fled  into  the  back  room,  her  waist  torn 
at  the  shoulder,  Jack  Shaw  in  close  pursuit. 
Gilmore  sprang  forward  and  bent  his  gun  across 
Shaw's  head.  The  V  Up-and-Down  man  went 
down  flat  just  as  Mrs.  Kyle  jerked  a  derringer 
from  her  bosom,  whisked  about,  and  fired  twice. 

Gilmore,  in  the  double  flash  of  the  little  gun's 
discharge,  had  an  instantaneous  glimpse  of  old 
Alec  Stuart's  face  over  the  shoulder  of  the  fall- 
ing Shaw.  Then  he  was  coughing  in  the  pungent 
powder-smoke,  and  saw  but  dimly. 

"  What'sa  matter?  What'sa  matter?  "  Jimmy 
•Was  crying  at  his  side. 

"  Get  the  woman  away !  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      193 

"  Smoky's  done  it.     Come  on!  " 

The  music  had  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  bar. 
In  the  saloon  there  was  deep  silence;  but  not  for 
long.  The  habitues  of  the  place,  hot  arid  eager 
with  curiosity,  and  hearing  no  more  shots, 
crowded  into  the  hall. 

"  It's  old  Alec! "  exclaimed  a  tall  puncher  of 
the  V  Up-and-Down.  "An'  here's  Jack!"  he 
added,  coming  into  the  back  room  and  striking 
a  match. 

"Alec's  gone  out!"  called  another.  "Two 
shots  plumb  through  his  heart!  Who  done  it?  " 

"  I  dunno,"  the  bartender  answered.  "Is 
Jack  cashed? " 

"  He's  breathin',"  said  the  tall  puncher  laconic- 
ally. "Got  a  bed  handy?" 

"  Shore,  put  him  in  mine,"  the  bartender  an- 
swered. 

"  Who  done  it?  Who  done  it?  "  clamored  the 
crowd,  as  Shaw  was  taken  away. 

"  How  do  I  know? "  bawled  the  exasperated 
puncher.  '  There  wasn't  nobody  in  this  room 
when  I  come  in.  Ask  me  somethin'  easy,  why 
don'tcha?  Take  Stuart's  feet,  Rufe,  will  yuh? 
Lemme  through,  can'tcha?  Didn'tcha  ever  see 
a  downed  gent  before?  " 

"A-agh-ugh!" 

A  wheezing  grunt  issued  from  the  throat  of  the 
supposed  corpse,  to  the  horror  of  the  bearers,  who 
promptly  dropped  it  and  stood  back — well  back. 
The  corpse  sat  up.  It  rubbed  its  stomach  and 
swore  aloud. 


194      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

'  What  you  id  jits  try  in'  to  do? "  came  the 
question  in  the  well-known  voice  of  Mr.  Alec 
Stuart.  '  Wanta  kill  a  man,  throwin'  me  round 
thisaway?  Who  hit  me  anyway?  " 

"  Yo're  sh-shot,"  stuttered  the  tall  puncher. 
"  Plumb  through  the  heart,  too !  Look  at  the 
blood  all  over  yore  shirt! " 

Mr.  Stuart  looked  down  at  the  shirt  in  ques- 
tion, and  delved  within  a  drenched  breast-pocket. 
He  removed  therefrom  several  pieces  of  broken 
glass,  and  flung  them  afar. 

"  Med'cine,"  he  observed.  "  Med'cine  for  the 
toothache.  Must  'a'  broke  the  bottle.  An*  my 
watch  " — again  the  hand  was  plunged  into  the 
pocket — "  my  watch "  —the  hand  was  with- 
drawn— "  is — say,  who  busted  my  watch?  " 

He  dangled  before  the  multitude  a  bent  and 
shattered  watch.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  by  the 
light  of  a  lamp  obligingly  held  out  by  the  bar- 
tender, examined  the  wrecked  timepiece.  Em- 
bedded in  the  battered  metal  and  among  the 
twisted  wheels  were  two  flattened  bullets. 

"  Derringer  bullets,"  he  remarked.  '  Who's 
been  practisin'  on  me?  I'd  shore  admire  to  know 
who's  been  turnin'  loose  his  artillery  in  my  direc- 
tion!" 

"  None  of  us  did,  yuh  can  gamble  on  that," 
the  tall  puncher  told  him. 

"  Some  gent  did,"  insisted  Stuart.  "  Here's 
the  proof  in  these  bullets.  I  remember  comin'  in 
here.  I  was  goin'  outside,  an'  I  just  got  past  the 
door  when  there  was  a  flash  plumb  in  my  eyes,  an' 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      195 

I  got  this  belt  in  the  chest,  an'  I  don't  remember 
another  thing.  Yo're  shore  there  wasn't  nobody 
else  in  here  when  yuh  come  in?  " 

"  Nobody  but  Jack  Shaw,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Some  gent  had  took  a  smash  at  his  head,  an' 
he  shore  did  land.  Jack's  in  on  the  bartender's 
bed  right  now,  senseless  as  jerky." 

Well  away  in  the  darkness  Gilmore  and  Jimmy 
held  the  three  horses  and  awaited  the  return  of 
the  half-breed. 

"  Y'oughta  plugged  him,  Dal,  'stead  o'  just 
whangin'  him  over  the  head,"  chided  Jimmy. 

"  I  guess  maybe  I'll  have  to  yet,"  grumbled 
Gilmore. 

"Yuh  shore  will!  It's  like  I  always  says, 
yo're  too  tender-hearted.  Yuh  let  a  fellah  im- 
pose on  yuh  thataway,  an'  wait  till  he  crowds  yuh, 
'stead  o'  rubbin'  him  out  in  the  beginnin'  an' 
settlin'  his  troubles  once  for  all." 

Gilmore  nodded  without  hearing  a  word  of 
what  his  friend  was  saying. 

"  I  shore  hope  the  old  man  ain't  gone  out,"  was 
Gilmore's  fervent  declaration.  "  It'll  be  hard 
on  his  daughter  if  he  did !  " 

"  *  Many  a  good  horse  dies,'  "  Jimmy  quoted. 

'Yeah;  but " 

"  It  wasn't  yore  fault."     Consolingly. 

'  It  ain't  that.     Yuh  don't  understand  at  all." 

"  Nor  you,  neither.  Yuh  make  me  plumb 
weary.  Here  yuh  go  moonin'  an'  carryin'  on 
over  an  old  gent  who  was  only  too  anxious  to 
down  yuh,  just  as  if  yuh'd  turned  the  trick  yore- 


196      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

self.  Don't  be  so  sorrowful  about  it.  Maybe  he 
ain't  cashed  after  all." 

"  De  ol'  man  she  ees  not  hurt,"  reported 
Nivette  a  half -hour  later,  and  told  of  the  life- 
saving  watch. 

"  That's  shore  a  heap  providential,"  said  Gil- 
more,  relieved.  "  Saves  a  lot  of  trouble,  all 
right!  Djuh  get  her  away,  Smoky?  " 

"  Shore!  I  tak'  Meesus  Kyle  een  troo  de  side 
door.  Nobody  see  her.  Nobody  but  us  un  Jack 
Shaw  know  she  shoot  de  gun.  She  ees  safe  now 
from  Jack  Shaw.  By  gar,  yes !  I  weel  be  here, 
un  I  weel  spik  wit'  Meestair  Shaw.  She  geeve 
me  dis  for  you,  Dal." 

"  Dis  "  was  a  letter.  Gilmore  took  the  missive, 
opened  it,  and  struck  a  match.  It  ran: 

DEAR  MR.  GILMORE: 

Jack  Shaw  and  Alec  Stuart  have  planned  to  kill 
you  at  the  first  opportunity.  Probably  you  know  this,  so 
I'm  wasting  time  telling  you.  But  what  you  don't  know 
is  that  they  intend  to  entice  you  to  the  Hash  Knife  and 
then  murder  you.  The  plan  is  to  use  a  letter  of  Louise 
Stuart's.  It  will  be  a  forgery.  Shaw  is  an  excellent 
penman.  Look  out  for  them. 

If  I  learn  anything  else,  I  will  let  you  know  somehow. 
Yours  truly, 

MRS.  MARYJANE  KYLE. 

The  match  flickered  out  and  left  Gilmore  star- 
ing at  the  white  blotch  of  the  paper  in  his  hand; 
but  he  was  not  thinking  of  the  letter's  meaning. 
His  brain  was  busy  with  what,  to  his  mind,  was 
vital  in  every  way. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      197 

"  I  gotta  see  Mrs.  Kyle,"  Gilmore  suddenly 
announced. 

"  Oh,  shore,  right  now,"  was  Jimmy's  sarcastic 
comment.  "  It'd  be  right  healthy  to  go  makin' 
calls  now,  wouldn't  it?  " 

"  You  stay  here  with  the  hosses,"  said  the  un- 
heeding Gilmore,  "  an'  Smoky  an'  me'll  take  a 
liT  pasear  back  to  town." 

And  back  to  town  they  went,  despite  the 
earnest  protests  of  Jimmy.  Gilmore  crawled  in 
at  Mrs.  Kyle's  opened  window,  while  the  in- 
valuable Nivette,  simulating  drunkenness,  stood 
guard  at  a  corner  of  the  building. 


CHAPTER  XX 

MRS.  KYUE  placed  a  screen  in  front  of  the  win- 
dow, lighted  a  lamp,  and  turned  the  wick  low. 
She  looked  at  Gilmore  with  bright  eyes. 

"  I'm  glad  I  didn't  kill  him,"  she  said  in  a 
low  voice;  "  but  I'd  shoot  him  again,  I  guess,  if 
he  tried  to  grab  me  the  way  he  did  that  time!  " 

"An*  serve  him  right,"  observed  Gilmore; 
"  but  watch  yoreself ,  an'  yuh  won't  have  to. 
He'll  get  all  tangled  up  in  his  rope  yet.  Yuh'll 
see!  I  got  yore  letter,"  he  added  with  a  keen 
look. 

She  nodded. 

"  I  know,"  she  said.  "  One  of  the  Hash  Knife 
boys  got  drunk,  and  told  their  plan  of  the  forged 
letter  to  my  bartender,  and  Tom  told  me.  That 
was  at  five  o'clock  this  afternoon.  I  wrote  the 
letter  right  away.  I  didn't  know  where  I  could 
reach  you,  but  I  thought  I'd  better  write  it,  any- 
way. Good  thing  I  did !  " 

She  dropped  her  eyes  and  began  aimlessly  to 
pick  at  the  deerskin  table-cover.  Gilmore  laid 
the  letter  on  the  table. 

"  Yuh  wrote  that,"  he  observed;  "  but  did  yuh 
write  this?" 

He  laid  another  letter  beside  the  first.     This 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      199 

second  letter  was  the  one  delivered  by  Smoky 
Nivette  on  the  trail  to  Plain  Edge.  Mrs.  Kyle 
stared  at  the  letter.  Slowly  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  his  face. 

"  Why "  she  began  nervously. 

"  What's  the  use?  "  he  asked.  "  If  yuh  wrote 
this  second  letter,  yuh  didn't  write  the  first.  The 
handwritings  different,  an'  the  way  it's  written  is 
different.  What  I  want  to  know  is,  who  wrote 
this  first  letter?" 

His  lean  forefinger  tapped  the  crinkled 
rectangle  of  paper.  Mrs.  Kyle  looked  at  him 
reflectively. 

"  I  oughtn't  to  tell  you,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  Louise  and  Smoky  told  me  not  to,  but  I  guess 
I  must.  Louise  Stuart  wrote  that  first  letter. 
She  had  just  ridden  in  when  she  found  out  that 
the  boys  were  organizing  to  go  after  you,  and  she 
fixed  up  the  letter  to  look  as  if  I  wrote  it,  and 
sent  it  off  by  Smoky.  I'd  have  done  it  myself, 
only— only  I  didn't  think  of  it." 

"I  know!"  he  said  gently.  "I'm  thankin' 
yuh  just  the  same.  I'm  obliged  to  yuh  for  tellin' 


me." 


He  folded  both  letters  and  put  them  back  in 
his  pocket. 

"  I  wish  you  luck,"  said  Mrs.  Kyle,  holding 
out  her  hand. 

'  Thanks,"  he  said,  squeezing  her  fingers  with 
unconscious  roughness. 

"  Don't  mind  what  Louise  says,"  she  told  him. 
"  Make  her  marry  you !  " 


200      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Has  she  been  talkin'  to  yuh? "  he  asked  in 
amazement. 

"  Never  mind  whether  she  has  or  not;  but  fol- 
low my  advice.  And  whatever  you  do,  don't  tell 
her  I  told  you — about  the  letter  or  any  thing  else." 

At  this  juncture  there  came  a  rap  on  the  door. 
Gilmore  wheeled  toward  the  window.  From  the 
street  came  the  whistled  lilt  of  "  Billy  Venero  " — 
Nivette's  signal  that  some  one  was  coming  round 
the  house.  No  escape  through  the  window! 

Again  the  rap  on  the  door,  and  a  voice  called 
loudly  on  Mrs.  Kyle. 

"Here!"  she  whispered  sharply,  and  pushed 
Gilmore  behind  one  section  of  the  screen.  The 
other  section  she  angled  in  such  a  manner  that  he 
was  completely  hidden  from  an  observer  at  either 
the  window  or  the  door. 

"  Hey,  are  yuh  deef  in  there? "  bawled  the 
irritated  voice  on  the  other  side  of  the  door. 

"  You'll  soon  find  out  whether  I'm  deaf  or 
not,"  Mrs.  Kyle  replied  with  spirit,  "  if  you  don't 
stop  kicking  that  door!  What  do  you  want?" 

"  Want  you  to  come  and  look  after  Jack.  He 
needs  a  woman.  We're  goin'  to  search  yore 
room,  too." 

At  these  words  Gilmore  dragged  out  his  gun. 
Mrs.  Kyle  gave  a  hearty  laugh. 

"Going  to  search  my  room,  are  you?"  she 
cried.  "  That's  good,  that  is!  I  can  see  myself 
letting  you  do  it!  Who's  we,  might  I  ask?  " 

She  walked  to  the  door,  unlocked  it,  and  flung 
it  open.  The  lamplight  fell  on  the  faces  of  sev- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      201 

eral  men  gathered  round  the  doorway.  One  of 
them  was  the  tall  V  Up-and-Down  puncher  who 
had  pronounced  Alec  Stuart  dead. 

The  intruders  shuffled  in  embarrassment.  The 
tall  puncher  cleared  his  throat.  It  was  compara- 
tively simple  to  talk  through  a  door,  but  it  was 
different  when  confronted  by  the  lady. 

*  Yuh  see,  ma'am,"  he  said  ingratiatingly, 
"  we've  done  searched  the  whole  saloon  for  the 
gent  who  hit  Shaw,  an'  we'd  like  to  search  yore 
room,  too,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  We  don't  care  nothin'  about  pokin'  through 
a  lady's  room,"  a  comrade  hastened  to  say.  "  It 
was  yore  idee.  You  can  have  the  credit." 

"  Well '  began  the  tall  puncher. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see! "  said  Mrs.  Kyle,  her  hand- 
some eyes  appraising  him.  '  You're  the  man 
who  couldn't  tell  the  difference  between  tooth- 
ache medicine  and  blood,  aren't  you?  Are  you 
sure  you'd  know  the  man  you're  hunting  for? 
I  don't " 

But  the  tall  puncher  had  already  departed. 
His  friends,  roaring  with  laughter  at  Mrs.  Kyle's 
wit,  followed.  The  widow  closed  the  door  and 
locked  it.  She  walked  to  the  window  and  looked 
out. 

"Quick!"  she  whispered,  pulling  back  the 
screen.  "  There's  no  one  in  sight  but  Smoky." 

Gilmore  slid  over  the  window-sill,  joined 
Smoky,  and  together  they  hurried  back  to  the 
waiting  Jimmy,  who  received  them  with  strong 
language. 


202      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Say,  this  hoss-holdin'  is  no  cinch/'  he  stated 
feelingly,  when  he  had  sworn  off  most  of  his 
temper.  "  Twice  gents  ride  by  me,  an'  I  have 
to  squeeze  the  noses  of  three  hosses  to  keep  'em 
from  whinnerin'  —  an'  me  with  only  two  hands. 
An'  then  a  drunk  sport  comes  out  here  an'  goes 
for  to  rustle  my  own  special  hoss.  I  whangs  him 
over  the  head,  you  bet!  Oh,  I  thank  yuli  for  a 
very  pleasant  and  sociable  evenin',  Mr.  Gilmore 
an'  company!  Next  time  I'm  goin'  with  yuh." 

"Aw,  shut  up  !  "  retorted  Gilmore  pleasantly. 
*  Yo're  a  selfish  jigger  —  always  wantin'  all  the 
fun.  Y'ain't  happy  till  yuh  get  it.  Don't  fret, 
yuh'll  get  all  the  fun  that's  comin'  to  yuh  before 
long.  Smoky,  we'll  be  seein'  yuh  soon  —  couple 
o'  weeks,  maybe.  Take  care  o'  yoreself  !  " 

Gilmore  and  Jimmy  jogged  off,  heading  in  the 
direction  of  the  Lazy  D.  The  irrepressible 
Jimmy  endeavored  to  keep  a  conversation  going, 
but  Gilmore  was  hardly  more  responsive  than  a 
wooden  Indian. 

"  What'sa  matter  with  yuh?  "  cried  the  dis- 
gusted Jimmy.  "  Here  I've  done  asked  yuh 
over  an'  over  for  a  match,  an'  yuh  just  sit  there 
an'  chuckle  at  nothin'.  Gimme  a  match,  will 


Gilmore  turned  a  slow  head. 

"  Did  you  speak?  " 

"  Me?  No,  I  didn't  say  a  word.  I  was  just 
singin'  a  song  to  myself.  I  don't  believe  in 
talkin'.  Strains  the  throat.  Now  that  I've  got 
yore  attention,  yuh  might  gimme  a  match,  if 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      203 

yo're  shore  I  ain't  troublin'  yore  highness  too 
much." 

Gilmore  told  Jimmy  where  to  go,  and  pulled  a 
match  from  his  hatband.  One  could  not  blame 
the  deputy  for  being  in  an  abstracted  frame  of 
mind.  Any  man  who  has  just  discovered  that 
his  beloved  loves  him  cannot  be  held  responsible; 
and  that  Louise  had  responded  to  his  swift  pas- 
sion Gilmore  did  not  doubt  for  an  instant.  How 
he  was  to  bring  about  the  all-important  wedding 
did  not  bother  him  in  the  slightest  degree. 

"It's  a  cinch!"  he  told  himself.  "Now  I 
know  how  I  stand,  everything'll  work  out  all 
right!" 

It  was  early  in  the  evening  when  Gilmore  and 
Jimmy  rode  in  among  the  buildings  of  the 
Lazy  D  ranch.  They  could  easily  have  arrived 
in  the  daylight,  but  the  darkness  was  safer. 
News  travels  slowly  in  the  cow  country,  but  there 
was  no  knowing  what  choice  bits  might  have 
drifted  to  the  Lazy  D.  Caution  always  pays. 

Their  first  step  was  to  saddle  the  dun,  which 
had  recovered  its  strength  and  spirits,  and  an- 
other horse,  and  tie  them  to  the  stockade  of  the 
nearest  corral.  Then  they  went  to  the  cook- 
shack,  knowing  well  that  the  latest  gossip,  if 
there  were  any,  would  sauce  their  food;  but  the 
cook  had  nothing  to  tell  them.  He  sulkily  placed 
cold  beans  and  beef  on  the  table,  and  would  have 
let  them  go  coffeeless  had  not  Gilmore  persuaded 
him  to  do  otherwise. 

"An'  yuh  can  give  us  some  o'  that  pie,"  said 


204      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Gilmore  over  his  third  cup.     "  Yeah,  that  one. 
Looks  good,  don't  it?" 

The  tone  was  light,  but  the  blue  eyes  were 
heavily  compelling.  The  pie  was  supplied. 

Supper  finished,  Gilmore  and  Jimmy  strolled 
across  to  the  office.  Tom  Johnson's  saturnine 
countenance  lowered  at  their  entrance,  and  his 
little  green  eyes  narrowed.  Somehow,  at  that 
'particular  moment,  he  reminded  Gilmore  of  the 
lank  hogs  of  the  Ozarks. 

'Whatcha  laughin'  at?"  Johnson  wished  to 
know. 

"  Somethin'  I  saw  once  back  in  Arkansaw," 
answered  Gilmore.  "  I  think  o'  things  like  that 
once  in  a  while.  Can't  help  it.  It's  shore  grown 
to  be  a  habit.  How  are  yuh,  anyway?  Me,  I'm 
enjoyin'  my  usual  good  health.  Take  a  chair, 
Jimmy.  Make  yoreself  at  home.  We're  all 
friends  here." 

Mr.  Johnson  smiled  a  sour  smile. 

!<  I  dunno "  he  began. 

"  I  do,"  interrupted  the  cheery  Gilmore. 
"  Yuh  were  goin'  to  say  yuh  don't  see  how  yuh 
stand  my  foolishness.  Shore  yuh  weret  Can't 
fool  me.  I  know  yuh,  yuh  good-natured  old 
rascal.  Honest,  Tommy,  if  I  was  so  overflowin' 
with  the  milk  o'  human  kindness  like  you  are,  I'd 
bust.  I  shore  would !  Couldn't  stand  the  strain. 
But  you  were  sayin'  somethin' — don't  let  me 
interrupt." 

Gilmore  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  fanned 
himself  with  his  hat.  He  was  smiling  serenely. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      205 

Johnson  spat  on  the  floor  and  reached  for  the 
matches. 

"  I've  seen  eight-day  clocks,"  he  observed 
acridly,  "  but  you  never  seem  to  run  down. 
Don't  y'ever  worry  about  yore  mainspring 
bustin'?" 

"  Never,"  was  the  bland  reply. 

Tom  Johnson  gave  it  up  and  turned  to  Jimmy. 

"Any  other  name  besides  Jimmy? "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  Not  to  you,"  replied  that  personage. 

"  I  see  yo're  like  yore  friend.  Yuh  look 
young." 

"  Don't  let  yore  eyes  deceive  yuh." 

"All  right,  I  won't.  Yuh  know  what  yuh 
gotta  do?" 

"Shore!" 
'  Then  I  guess  that's  all  for  to-night." 

"  No,  it  ain't  all,"  spoke  up  Gilmore.  "  I  kind 
o'  guess,  Tom,  yuh'll  be  interested  in  hearin'  what 
I  found  out  at  the  Fort  Henderson  agency," 

"  What  do  yuh  know  about  the  agency?  I 
didn't  tell  yuh  to  go  there." 

"  I  know  yuh  didn't,  but  then  I  figured  yuh 
couldn't  be  expected  to  know  as  much  as  I  did,  so 
I  went  there." 

"  Go  on!  "  Johnson's  voice  was  harsh. 

"  I  found  that  Enright,  o'  Plain  Edge,  has 
been  sellin'  cows  to  the  government  at  somethin' 
over  the  market." 

Lively  suspicion  looked  out  of  Johnson's  small, 
close-set  eyes. 


2o6      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Say,  who  are  you,  anyway? " 

"  Dan  Gill,  like  I  told  yuh.  When  I'm  on  a 
job  like  the  one  you  gave  me,  I  always  use  my 
head  an'  go  Injunin'  round  all  over  the  country; 
so  yuh  needn't  be  surprised  at  any  thin'  I  do.  I 
got  to  talkin'  confidential  with  the  Injun  agent, 
Oyle.  He  told  me  quite  a  tale.  Did  yuh  know, 
Johnson,  that  Enright  signed  a  voucher  for  some- 
thin'  like  twenty  dollars  a  head  on  two  hundred 
an'  fifty  cows? " 

Johnson  sprang  right  out  of  his  chair.  His 
fist  crashed  down  on  the  desk. 

"  Dam'  his  soul!  "  he  exploded.  "  He  told  me 
fifteen!" 

"  I  expect,"  Gilmore  commented  gently ;  "  but 
it  ain't  necessary  to  tell  the  neighbors  about  it." 

"  Did  yuh  see  the  voucher?  "  demanded  John- 
son, still  on  his  feet. 

"  Didn't  need  to,"  replied  Gilmore,  and  forth- 
with made  clear  to  Johnson  his  reasons  for  sus- 
pecting Enright. 

Striding  to  and  fro  the  length  of  the  office  in 
his  rage,  Johnson  swore  violently. 

"  I  never  did  trust  him!  I'll  play  even  with 
him,  the " 

"  Five  times  two  fifty,  that's  twelve  hundred 
an'  fifty  dollars,"  cut  in  Gilmore,  thoughtfully 
fanning  the  flames  of  Johnson's  wrath.  '  That's 
a  lot  o'  money.  He  shore  could  'a'  split  even 
without  hurtin'  himself." 

"  I'll  fill  him  so  full  o'  lead  he'll  rattle!  "  fumed 
Tom  Johnson. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      207 

Jimmy  grinned  quietly  at  the^floor.  Gilmore 
rolled  a  meticulous  cigarette. 

"  I  thought  yuh  said  yuh  was  new  to  this 
country ! " 

Johnson  had  halted  in  his  wild  parade,  and 
flung  the  remark  at  Gilmore  with  the  suddenness 
of  a  pistol-shot. 

"  Don't  ask  me  too  many  questions,  Johnson," 
drawled  Gilmore,  blowing  a  smoke-ring  ceiling- 
ward. 

"  That's  all  right,  but  this  about  Enright. 
Yuh  talk  like  yuh  know  him! " 

"  Maybe  I  do.  What's  it  to  yuh  so  long's  I 
do  what  I'm  paid  to  do? " 

"Well " 

"  Here,  take  a  look  at  this." 

Gilmore,  whose  hand  had  been  busy  within 
his  vest,  flipped  a  playing-card  toward  Johnson. 
It  fell  between  them  on  the  table.  Johnson 
leaned  forward.  His  hot  eyes  perceived  that  the 
card  was  the  ace  of  spades  and  bore  a  memo- 
randum and  an  I.  O.  U.  He  picked  it  up  and 
looked  at  Gilmore. 

*  Yore  friend  Enright  is  mighty  careless  with 
his  personal  property,"  explained  Gilmore. 
"  Yuh'd  ought  to  tell  him  to  be  more  careful." 

Johnson  tore  the  card  into  bits  and  flung  them 
on  the  floor. 

"  It  don't  make  no  difference,"  he  said.  "  I 
wouldn't  pay  him  now,  nohow.  When  are  yuh 
goin'  down  an'  hire  out  to  the  Hash  Knife? " 

Gilmore's  face  went  solemn. 


208     The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Stuart's  dead,"  said  he. 

"  When  d'juh  get  him? "  was  Tom's  quick 
question. 

"  I  didn't,  but  somebody  else  did.  It  don't 
matter  who.  Anyway,  he's  gone  out,  an'  you 
save  five  hundred.  Jack  Shaw's  next,  huh?  " 

"  Yo're  shore  the  old  man's  dead?  " 

"  Y'ain't  doubtin'  my  word,  are  yuh?  " 

"  No,  oh,  no,  but  - 

"  There  ain't  any  buts.  We'll  be  pushin'  on 
to  our  next  job  to-morrow;  but  yuh  understand 
that  we  don't  hire  out  to  the  V  Up-and-Down. 
Jack  Shaw'll  be  put  where  he  won't  bother  folks, 
but  it'll  be  done  our  way." 

"Any  way,  any  way  you  like  best — the  bridle's 
off!" 

'  That's  all  right.  Glad  yuh  see  it  that  way. 
But  look  here,  what  do  yuh  say  to  me  an'  my 
friend  takin'  Enright's  place  in  the  next  beef  con- 
tract? When  I  was  talkin'  to  the  agent,  he  took 
me  up  at  nineteen." 

"  Took  yuh  up  at  nineteen?  " 

"  Shore!  I  didn't  know  where  I'd  get  the 
cows,  but  I  guessed  I  could  rustle  'em  some'eres." 

"  I  guess  yuh  could.  I'll  go  yuh  on  yore 
prop'sition.  Split  even  with  you — you  two 
against  me." 

"  Will  they  be  the  same  brands — Lazy  H-in-a- 
Circle  an'  A  Up-an'-Down?  " 

"Shore!    Listen!" 

The  lean  villain  proceeded  to  relate  the  pre- 
cise manner  in  which  the  cattle  were  rustled,  as 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      209 

opportunity  offered,  from  the  Hash  Knife,  the 
V  Up-and-Down,  and  sundry  other  ranches,  re- 
branded,  drifted  across  the  ranges,  and  finally 
turned  over  to  the  Indian  agent. 

"  Gimme  five  years,"  said  Johnson  in  conclu- 
sion, "  an'  I'll  have  pretty  near  every  cow  in  the 
Territory!" 

Gilmore  believed  him.  At  ten  o'clock  he  and 
Jimmy  left  the  office.  At  ten  thirty  the  manager 
retired.  At  eleven  thirty  he  was  awakened  by  a 
cold  ring  of  metal  pressed  tightly  against  his 
temple. 

"  Don't  yell,"  a  calm  voice  commanded  him. 
"  An'  I  wouldn't  move  too  sudden,  either.  I 
know  it's  dark,  but  the  window's  wide  open,  an' 
yuh  can  see  enough  to  put  on  yore  clo'es,  I  guess. 
Get  up  an'  begin,  an'  remember  LiT  Willy's 
watchin'  yuh  all  the  time." 

"  Say,  Gill,  is  this  a  joke?  "  Tom  Johnson  was 
careful  not  to  speak  above  a  whisper. 

"  I  never  joke,"  was  the  severe  reply.  "  Get 
up!" 

Tom  Johnson  arose  softly. 

'  What  do  yuh  want,  anyway? " 

"  Yoreself,  that's  all." 

'  But " 

*  There  yuh  go  buttin'  again.  Yo're  always 
buttin'.  Seems  like  yuh  don't  know  any  other 
word.  I  might  as  well  tell  yuh  I'm  a  deputy, 
named  Gilmore.  Too  bad  yuh  didn't  know  that 
when  yuh  were  tellin'  Jimmy  an'  me  all  about 
yore  rustlin'!  It  shore  was  an  interestin'  story. 


210      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

The  judge  an'  the  jury'll  enjoy  hearin'  it — that 
an'  how  yuh  hired  me  to  rub  out  three  men.  An' 
yuh  can  take  it  from  me,  I  won't  be  so  careless 
about  hangin'  on  to  Exhibit  A  in  the  shape  o'  that 
I.  O.  U.  yuh  gave  me,  as  Enright  was  with  the 
one  yuh  gave  him.  That's  right — cuss  all  yo're  a 
mind  to.  When  yo're  dressed,  Jimmy'll  go  down 
to  the  bunk-house  an'  bring  back  yore  foreman. 
Yuh'll  be  sittin'  in  the  office  then,  behind  yore 
desk.  Yuh'll  tell  the  foreman  yuh  gotta  go  away 
for  a  while,  two-three  weeks,  maybe,  on  business ; 
but  yuh  won't  let  on  anythin'  to  the  foreman. 
Yuh  won't  even  wink  yore  eye  at  him,  'cause  I'll 
be  sittin'  in  here  in  the  dark  with  the  door  open 
an'  my  gun  a-pointin'  at  yore  tummy.  Jimmy'll 
be  standin'  some'eres  behind  the  foreman,  an'  he 
won't  have  his  eyes  closed,  exactly.  Do  yuh  un- 
derstand? Speak  up,  man !  I  can't  hear  yuh." 

It  was  a  choked  and  spluttery  "  yes  "  that  Mr. 
Johnson  uttered. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A  FEW  days  later  Doheny,  the  efficient  marshal 
of  Warrior's  Mark,  was  sitting  on  the  jail  steps, 
conversing  with  another  eminent  citizen,  when 
he  raised  his  eyes  and  glanced  along  the  dusty 
street. 

"  Here  comes  that  feller  Gilmore  again,"  said 
he.  "  Who's  he  got  this  trip?  " 

"  I  dunno,"  answered  the  eminent  citizen, 
squinting  his  eyes.  "  Yes,  I  do,  too.  It's  John- 
son— Tom  Johnson,  manager  o'  the  Lazy  D." 

"  Are  yuh  shore  o'  that?  " 

"  Shore  as  yo're  a  foot  high.  I  seen  Tom  John- 
son more'n  once  in  Virgin  City  an'  Plain  Edge 
both.  I'd  know  him  well  enough  anywhere." 

*  This  here  is  gettin'  to  be  the  supreme  limit," 
Doheny  announced  with  conviction. 

The  eminent  citizen  nodded. 

"  I  got  a  hundred  buckshot  cartridges  day  be- 
fore yest'day,"  he  observed  with  seeming  irrele- 
vance. 

'  Yuh'll  need  'em,"  grunted  the  marshal  with 
perfect  understanding. 

"  Howdy,  folks?  "  Gilmore  said  gravely.  "  I 
hope,  marshal,  yore  calaboose  ain't  filled !  " 

"  Always  room  for  one  more,"  the  marshal  as- 


212      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

sured  him,  his  impersonal  gaze  taking  in  Tom 
Johnson  from  hat  to  heels.  "  Why  is  it  this 
time? " 

"  Rustling  cattle  an'  conspiracy  to  commit 
murder,"  Gilmore  replied  smoothly. 

"  Why  don'tcha  make  it  arson  an'  stage-rob- 
bery? "  sneered  Johnson  savagely. 

"  Don't  get  impatient — maybe  I  will.  Come 
on  now,  Tom,  don't  be  a  fool !  It  won't  do  yuh 
any  manner  o'  good  to  wrastle  round  thisaway. 
I'll  have  to  bust  yuh  one.  Take  his  shoulders, 
Jimmy,  an'  we'll  pack  him  inside." 

"  I  didn't  ask  about  any  warrant,"  said  the 
marshal,  when  Gilmore  came  out,  "  but 

"  Yuh  can  hold  him  till  I  get  one  from  Plain 
Edge,"  cut  in  Gilmore. 

"  Y'ain't  goin'  to  Plain  Edge? " 

"Shore,  why  not?" 

'  Yuh'll  find  out  why  not  when  yuh  get  there. 
I  tell  yuh  plain  like  a  friend  yuh  won't  last 
more'n  about  a  half  a  minute.  Them  fellers  have 
come  up  here  twice  after  the  prisoners.  Plain 
Edge  is  mad,  an'  gettin'  madder,  and  yore  stroll- 
in'  into  town  will  just  about  put  the  hat  on  the 
climax.  If  I  was  you,  I  wouldn't  bother  about 
no  warrant — not  just  now  I  wouldn't.  I'll  board 
Tom  Johnson  without  it  for  a  while." 

"  Yo're  a  regular  gent,  an'  I  appreciate  yore 
offer,  but  it  can't  be  did.  There's  got  to  be  a  war- 
rant!" 

'"  There'll  be  two  funerals! " 

"  Yuh  think  so?  Well,  vuh  wait  an'  see  if  there 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      213 

ain't  a  lot  more'n  two.  Come  on  over  an'  have 
a  drink.  I'm  drier'n  a  covered  bridge." 

*  That  was  easy,"  commented  Jimmy,  when 
the  two  were  riding  out  on  the  Plain  Edge  trail. 

"  Too  easy,"  Gilmore  answered.  "  Everything 
been  that  way  so  far.  Hardly  any  trouble  at  all. 
They  just  fall  into  handcuffs  an'  jail  like  turtles 
slidin'  off  a  log.  We  ain't^gettin'  our  share  o' 
hard  times;  but  they'll  come.  They  always  do." 

"Yuh  betcha  they  will!"  Jimmy  assented. 
*  Two  men  ag'in'  a  whole  county  is  no  snap.  LIT 
Jimmy's  the  feller  that  always  rides  the  buckin' 
hoss.  Some  day  I'll  learn  sense,  get  married,  an' 
stick  to  home  like  a  Christian — if  I  live  long 
enough.  Coin'  to  ride  the  trail  the  whole  way  to 
Plain  Edge?" 

"  Shore!  If  there's  anybody  comin'  from  there 
I  want  to  meet  'em." 

But  they  met  no  one  on  the  road,  and  on  the 
following  afternoon  they  halted  a  mile  outside  of 
Plain  Edge  to  wait  for  nightfall  and  to  rest  their 
horses. 

Two  hours  after  sunset  they  mounted  and,  rid- 
ing circumspectly,  forded  the  river  and  ap- 
proached the  town  by  the  Beardance  trail.  This 
entailed  fording  the  stream  a  second  time,  but  it 
was  necessary,  for  among  the  cottonwoods  along 
the  river-bank  lay  the  only  safe  shelter  for 
Jimmy. 

"  But  I  wanna  go,  too,"  complained  that  young 
man,  when  told  what  his  part  in  the  action  was  to 
be.  "  It  ain't  no  fun  stickin'  here  a-suckin*  my 


214      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

thumbs.  Yuh  may  need  me,  Dal,  then  what'll 
yuh  do?  What  did  yuh  write  to  me  for  to  come 
an'  help  yuh,  if  the  first  time  there's  any  real 
chance  for  trouble  yuh  go  an'  leave  me  behind? 
It  ain't  sensible,  Dal!" 

"  Here  yuh  stay,"  the  inexorable  Gilmore  told 
him.  "  How  can  yuh  go  with  me  when  I  gotta 
take  yore  hoss?  They  won't  know  me  behind  the 
whiskers,  but  they'll  know  the  dun,  won't  they? 
Well  then,  quit  yore  bellerin'." 

"  Here's  my  hoss,"  snarled  the  hapless  Jimmy. 
"  Would  yuh  like  my  shirt,  or  my  hat,  or  maybe 
my  socks?  I  got  a  real  fine  pair  o'  boots.  Yuh 
overlooked  them.  How  about  a  cigarette?  Can't 
I  make  yuh  a  couple  o'  dozen,  an'  stick  'em  in 
yore  mouth  an'  light  'em  for  yuh?  But  I  draw 
the  line  at  my  gun  an'  my  rifle  an'  my  cartridges. 
If  yuh  don't  object,  I'd  like  to  keep  them  with 
me!" 

"  You  know  where  you  can  go!  "  Gilmore  ge- 
nially told  his  friend,  and  splashed  down  into  the 
water  on  the  borrowed  horse. 

Debating  whether  he  should  first  go  to  Shorty 
Damman's  hotel  or  to  the  judge's  house,  he 
finally  determined  to  call  on  his  honor — which, 
could  he  have  known  it,  was  a  mistake.  Unfor- 
tunately, Gilmore  was  not  omniscient.  He 
blithely  dismounted  in  front  of  a  saloon  a  few 
doors  from  the  judge's  house  and  tied  his  horse 
to  the  hitching-rail. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"  TOWN'S  mighty  dead,"  thought  Gilmore, 
glancing  in  at  the  open  door  of  the  saloon.  "  No- 
body round  but  the  bartender,  an'  he's  asleep." 

He  looked  up  and  down  the  street.  There  was 
no  one  in  sight  save  a  woman  carrying  home  some 
groceries,  and  there  were  no  ponies  tied  to  any  of 
the  hitching-rails.  Idly  speculating,  he  walked 
down  the  street  to  the  judge's  house.  Here  was 
life,  at  least.  Through  the  open  windows  he 
heard  the  clink  of  bottle  nudging  glass  and  the 
voices  of  men  conferring  together. 

He  walked  boldly  past  the  house,  then  tiptoed 
back  and  dodged  in  between  it  and  the  house  next 
door.  Edging  along  the  wall,  he  took  off  his  hat, 
crouched,  and  peered  in  at  the  corner  of  a  win- 
dow. 

With  his  back  toward  Gilmore,  and  almost 
within  arm's  length,  Judge  Trivvy  sat  at  a  table. 
The  shadow  of  the  broad,  judicial  body,  luckily 
for  the  watcher  outside,  fell  across  the  lower  half 
of  the  window.  At  the  judge's  right  hand  was 
Dick  Enright,  his  hat  far  back  on  his  head,  his 
left  hand  cupped  round  a  whisky-glass.  The 
third  man,  who  sat  facing  the  judge,  was  a 
stranger  to  Gilmore. 


216      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

He  was  a  heavy-shouldered,  bullet-headed 
man,  this  stranger,  with  a  hairless  face,  promi- 
nent jaws,  thin  lips,  large  cheek-bones  and  out- 
standing ears.  Completing  the  picture,  as  it 
were,  the  black  eyes  flanking  his  hooked  nose  were 
glassily  cold  in  their  blank  stare. 

Had  Gilmore  been  a  student  of  Grohmann  or 
Lombroso,  he  would  have  known  at  once  how  to 
catalogue  this  repellent-looking  person;  but,  not 
being  conversant  with  the  facial  characteristics  of 
the  habitual  murderer,  he  merely  concluded  that 
the  stranger  would  be  a  good  man  to  watch. 

"  It's  shore  queer  there  ain't  nobody  rubbed 
him  out  yet,"  the  bullet-headed  man  was  saying, 
his  black  eyes  fixed  on  Enright. 

"  It  is  an  exceptional  case,"  cut  in  the  learned 
judge.  "  This  man  is  unusual,  very  unusual!  " 

"  He  must  be,"  was  the  stranger's  dry  com- 
ment, delivered  with  curling,  thin  lips.  "  Yuh'd 
kind  o'  think  he  might  be  a  crowd  or  somethin'." 

"  Yuh'll  have  yore  hands  full,"  growled  En- 
right,  carefully  ignoring  the  other's  palpable 
slur. 

'  Yes,  I  heard  he  carved  his  name  on  yore 
arm.  Yuh  can't  move  it  right  easy  yet,  can 
yuh? " 

It  suddenly  broke  upon  Gilmore's  conscious- 
ness that  he  himself  was  the  subject  of  their  con- 
versation. With  freshened  interest  he  watched 
to  see  how  Enright  would  take  the  stranger's  last 
remark. 

The  Plain  Edge  deputy  took  it  well  enough. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      217 

He  did  not  seem  to  be  in  a  mood  to  resent  any 
insult,  no  matter  how  flagrant,  that  evening. 

"  It  should  be  a  comparatively  simple  matter," 
hurriedly  piped  up  the  judge,  "  for  you  to — er — 
put  this  man  Gilmore  out  of  action.  Very  sim- 
ple indeed!  I " 

"  Ye-es,  I  reckon  that's  why  yuh  sent  for  me 
an*  are  payin'  me  six  hundred  for  the  job — 'cause 
it's  so  simple! " 

"  We — I  was  taken  at  a  disadvantage,"  pro- 
tested Judge  Triwy,  pouring  himself  a  drink. 
"  I  was  unable  to  reach  my  gun." 

"  Didn't  Nivette  tie  yuh  to  a  chair  or  some- 
thin'?  "  the  stranger  asked  curiously. 

"  He  did,  and  Gilmore  choked  me.  Could  I 
have  reached  my  gun " 

"  Yuh'd  have  handed  it  over  to  him! "  finished 
the  stranger,  and  burst  into  a  high-pitched  cackle 
of  laughter. 

"  Say,  are  yuh  tryin'  to  make  trouble? "  de- 
manded Enright,  with  a  sudden  show  of  spirit. 

'  Why,  I  ain't  worry  in',"  was  the  placid  reply. 
"  I  never  try  to  make  trouble." 

Both  men  were  included  in  the  speaker's  feline 
smile. 

"  Have  another  drink,"  invited  Judge  Triwy, 
and  pushed  the  bottle  toward  the  truculent  one. 

The  man  poured  out  one  narrow  finger,  sipped 
it  delicately,  and  then  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
rolled  a  cigarette  with  an  expertness  that  even 
Gilmore  could  not  have  surpassed. 

"  One  little  thing  more,"  observed  the  stranger, 


218      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

breaking  a  silence  which  had  endured  till  his 
cigarette  was  smoked  out.    "  I  want  half  in  ad- 


vance." 


"  Half  in  advance!  "  the  judge  cried  in  alarm. 
*  Why,  my  dear  sir,  we  gave  you  a  quarter  in 
advance — one   hundred   and   fifty   dollars — not 
twenty  minutes  ago." 

"  I  ain't  yore  dear  sir.    I'm  only  workin'  for 
yuh.    I  don't  like  yuh,  an'  yuh  make  me  think  of 
a  fat  frog,  so  snub  up  yore  affection.    I  want  one 
hundred  an'  fifty  more,  three  hundred  flat! " 
,     "  My  friend  - 

"  I  ain't  yore  friend,  neither.  Three  hundred, 
I  said.  Keep  me  dangiin',  an'  I'll  make  it  four 
hundred.  I  reckon  now  I  will  make  it  four  hun- 
dred. Four  hundred  wheels  from  yore  pockets 
into  mine,  or  the  deal's  off!  " 

"  All  right,  call  it  off!  "  exclaimed  the  exasper- 
ated Enright. 

"  Shore,  call  it  off,"  agreed  the  stranger. 
"  Couldn't  suit  me  better,  that  couldn't.  Don't 
have  to  do  no  work,  an'  I'm  one  hundred  an'  fifty 
to  the  good!" 

"What?  You  mean  you  would  keep  our 
money?  "  The  judge's  voice  was  almost  a  shriek. 

"  Why  not?  I  don't  see  nobody  round  here 
fit  an'  able  to  take  it  away  from  me." 

The  judge  turned  a  doleful  head  toward  En- 
right. 

"  What  shall  we  do?  "  he  queried  helplessly. 

"  I  s'pose  you'll  have  to  give  it  to  him,"  En- 
right  answered. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      219 

f<  We'll  have  to  give  it  to  him,  ygu  mean,"  cor- 
rected the  judge. 

"  I  don't  mean  us  at  all.  I  mean  you — yes, 
you,  yuh  old  sot.  Fork  over  two  hundred  an' 
fifty  an'  give  it  to  this  graspin'  gent!  " 

;<  I  won't  do  it!    I  won't!    It's  robbery !" 

"  It's  more  than  that,"  chimed  in  the  stranger. 
"  I'd  do  anything  for  money.  Why,  judge,  if  I 
was  paid  enough,  I'd  even  cut  yore  throat!  " 

The  judge  was  visibly  agitated.  He  raised  a 
glass  to  his  lips,  and  one-third  of  the  liquid 
slopped  over  and  ran  down  his  wrist. 

"  Why  don't  you  chip  in,  Enright? "  Judge 
Trivvy's  tone  was  agonized. 

"  Because  I  ain't  got  it  handy.  Dig  up  the 
simoleons,  y'  old  crab.  Whatcha  waitin'  for? " 

"  What  a  pleasant  little  family  y'all  are!  "  ob- 
served the  stranger.  "  So  lovin'  like — one  might 
think  yuh  was  related.  I  can't  wait  all  night. 
Do  I  get  my  money,  or  don't  I?  " 

"  But  how — how  do  I  know  you  will  keep  your 
promise?  "  quavered  the  judge. 

The  stranger  leaned  across  the  table. 

"  How  do  yuh  know? "  he  said  in  a  cold  voice. 
"  Did  I  hear  yuh  say  them  words?  " 

"  No — no,  I  didn't  say  that,"  the  judge  dis- 
claimed. "  I — I'll  give  you  the  money." 

Enright  laughed,  but  there  was  no  answering 
smile  on  the  stranger's  face.  Impassive,  he 
watched  the  judge  taKe  a  fat  buckskin  bag  from 
his  coat-pocket  and  count  out  on  the  table  the 
necessary  number  of  gold  pieces.  He  pouched 


220      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

the  money  without  a  word  of  thanks,  and  re- 
marked that  he  would  start  immediately. 

'  Yore  not  knowin'  where  this  Gilmore  is  don't 
make  it  too  easy,"  he  added,  rising.  "  I  reckon 
I'll  try  Virgin  City  first." 

"  If  he  ain't  there,  go  see  Stuart  o'  the  Hash 
Knife,"  suggested  Enright.  "  He's  a  good  friend 
o'  mine,  an'  it's  just  a  chance  he'll  maybe  have 
heard  somethin'  about  Gilmore.  Jack  Shaw  o' 
the  V  Up-an'-Down  is  another  one  I  know.  He'll 
help  yuh  all  he  can.  But  yuh  want  to  look  out 
for  the  Triangle  O  an'  the  Lazy  D.  Keep  away 
from  'em.  If  any  o'  them  see  yuh  ridin'  the 
range,  they're  a  heap  likely  to  beef  yuh  first  an* 
ask  yuh  about  it  after.  Glenn  County  ain't  no 
health-resort! " 

"  So  I  heard.  Don't  yuh  fret  none  about  me. 
I'll  be  back  to  claim  the  other  two  hundred  before 
long." 

Abruptly  he  quitted  the  room.  Gilmore  could 
hear  him  walking  away  along  the  street. 

"  That  Crowner  is  shore  a  hellion,"  remarked 
Enright,  holding  the  bottle  against  the  lamplight. 
"  Not  a  man's  drink  left.  Where's  another  bot- 
tle, judge?" 

"  There  are  no  other  bottles — for  you,"  was 
the  pointed  reply. 

"  Aw,  don't  be  a  crab,  y'  old  miser!  Anybody'd 
think  yuh  really  care  somethin'  about  that  two 
fifty.  I'll  pay  yuh  back.  I'd  pay  yuh  right  now, 
only  I  ain't  got  it  with  me." 

"Oh,  go  to  the  devil!" 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      221 

"  Shut  up,  or  I'll  find  a  short  ;way  to  make 
yuh!" 

"  I've  a  good  mind  to  cut  loose  from  you  en- 
tirely." 

"  Yuh  can't  afford  to.  S'pose  Stuart  an'  Shaw 
ever  found  out  you  was  in  cahoots  with  Tom 
Johnson  an'  Oyle — what  then,  huh?  " 

*  You're  in  this  deeper  than  I  am." 

"  I  know  I  am,  but  whose  idea  was  it  in  the 
first  place?  Yuh  won't  be  the  silent  partner  yuh 
make  out  to  be,  if  yuh  ever  break  with  me.  Break 
with  me!  That  shore  listens  well! " 

Enright  threw  his  head  back  and  burst  into  a 
jarring  laugh.  The  judge  jerked  open  the  table- 
drawer.  His  fat  fingers  scrabbled  within.  En- 
right  swung  forward  swiftly. 

"None  o'  that,  y'  old  fool!"  he  rapped  out, 
gripping  the  other's  wrist.  "  Let  loose  o'  that 
gun,  or  I'll  twist  yore  hand  off!  Oh,  it  hurts, 
huh?  Then  drop  it.  Here,  I'll  take  it  out  o'  yore 
reach.  Don't  move  now  while  I  feel  yuh  over  for 
anythin'  else." 

"  I  sha'n't  try  to  hurt  you! "  cried  the  judge. 
"  I  give  you  my  word !  " 

"  Yore  word  is  worth  about  half  as  much  as 
yore  rotten  self.  I  don't  trust  yuh  for  a  minute. 
There  now,  I  guess  yuh  ain't  concealin'  nothin' 
about  yore  person.  Yuh  can  sit  back  if  yuh  like." 

"  I — I — I  fear  I  nearly  lost  my  temper," 
quavered  the  judge.  "  I  apologize.  This — this 
business  of  fleeing  with  the  hare  and  running  with 
the  hounds  is  very  trying  to  the  nerves." 


222      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  It's  a  fact,  yuh  don't  know  when  yo're  goin' 
to  trip,"  Enright  answered  equably.  "  But  keep 
yore  heart  up.  A  couple  o'  years  more,  what 
with  both  sides  payin'  for  protection,  an'  them 
agency  contracts,  an'  you  an'  I  can  retire." 

"  If  young  Drummond  should  come  north, 
where  will  the  contracts  and  half  the  protection 
be?" 

"  I'm  bettin'  he'll  never  come.    The  Double  D 
is  takin'  all  his  time.    Don't  worry  none — Tom 
Johnson'll  have  a  free  hand  for  years  yet." 
'  Yes,  but  this  cattle  war  may  bring  him." 

"  No  'twon't.  Johnson's  been  sendin'  him  the 
best  kind  o'  reports  from  the  Lazy  D.  If  he 
knowed  the  ranch  was  losin'  cattle,  it'd  be  differ- 
ent; but  he  don't,  an'  he  won't,  not  with  Tom 
manager.  Anyway,  s'pose  the  Lazy  D  an'  Tri- 
angle O  have  suffered  a  lot,  still,  takin'  it  all  in 
all,  it's  the  V  Up-an'-Down  an'  the  Hash  Knife 
that  have  come  out  the  little  end  so  far.  One 
more  o'  the  Hash  Knife  boys  was  clowned  about  a 
week  ago.  Oh,  Tom's  shore  a  whizzer.  He's  got 
'em  all  beat  forty  ways  from  the  jack!  " 

"  Oyle's  the  one  to  profit  the  most,"  grumbled 
the  judge. 

"  Shore,  but  we  can't  all  be  Injun  agents.  I'm 
satisfied  to  be  just  a  deputy." 

"Are  yuh?"  said  Gilmore,  his  gun  poked 
across  the  window-sill.  "  Too  bad  the  rest  of  us 
ain't!" 

The  command  of  "  Hands  up ! "  was  quite  un- 
necessary. At  the  sound  of  his  voice  two  pairs  of 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      223 

arms  clawed  ceilingward.  Gilmore  flung  a  leg 
over  the  sill  and  eased  his  body  into  the  room 
without  losing  for  an  instant  the  magic  of  the 
drop. 

Enright's  face  was  a  Japanese  mask  of  malev- 
olent hatred  and  the  passion  to  kill.  His  washed- 
out  gray  eyes  were  narrowed  like  a  cat's. 

The  judge  quivered  as  a  well-made  jelly  quiv- 
ers. His  two  chins  visibly  wabbled  with  appre- 
hension. 

Gilmore  walked  to  the  table  and  removed  the 
lamp  to  the  mantelpiece. 

"  So's  yuh  won't  be  tempted  to  knock  it  over," 
he  explained,  and  stepped  behind  Enright. 
'  Yuh'll  excuse  me  for  takin'  yore  gun  an*  the 
judge's,"  he  continued,  with  elaborate  politeness, 
removing  the  weapons.  "  Yo're  so  venturesome, 
you  two,  yo're  liable  to  do  'most  any  thin'.  There, 
I  guess  we  can  all  be  happy  now,  but  keep 
yore  hands  up.  The  exercise'll  be  good  for 
yuh." 

He  sidled  across  the  room  and  seated  himself 
in  Judge  Trivvy's  most  comfortable  chair. 

"  How  long  yuh  been  here?  "  inquired  Enright 
harshly. 

"Me?    Oh,  I  just  come.    Why?" 

"  Nothin'.    I  was  just  wonderin'." 

"  That's  not  a  criminal  offense,  but  shiftin' 
round  in  yore  chair  thataway  is.  Keep  still,  En- 
right  !  Yuh  don't  suppose  there'd  be  many  ques- 
tions asked  if  I  should  drill  yuh,  do  yuh?  Judge, 
make  out  a  warrant  for  Thomas  Johnson.  He's 


224      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

charged  with  rustling  cattle  and  inciting  to  mur- 
der." 

Enright  gaped.  His  complete  change  of  ex- 
pression was  almost  ludicrous. 

"  Tom  Johnson! "  he  gasped.  "  Honest,  yuh 
got  him?" 

"Shore!" 

"  Where  is  he?  " 

"  It's  none  of  yore  business,  o*  course;  but  see- 
in'  it's  you,  I'll  tell  yuh  he's  safe  in  the  calaboose 
at  the  Mark." 

"  At  the  Mark?  " 

"  Shore!    Why  the  happy  laughter?  " 

For  Enright  was  laughing  heartily ;  but  in  an- 
other instant  he  ceased  laughing  as  suddenly  as 
he  had  begun,  and  began  to  curse  loudly.  To 
Gilmore's  mind,  there  was  a  flavor  of  pretense 
about  those  curses.  He  sensed  that  the  Plain 
Edge  deputy  was  using  them  to  mask  something 
quite  different  from  the  matter  in  hand,  but  what 
that  something  might  be  was  more  than  he  could 
fathom.  Later  he  discovered  to  his  intense  dis- 
gust the  cause  of  Enright's  mirth.  It  also  ex- 
plained the  tiny  quirk  at  the  corner  of  the  judge's 
mouth  as  he  wrote  out  the  warrant,  and  the  mal- 
ice in  his  eyes  as  he  pushed  the  warrant  across  the 
table. 

"  I  guess  the  warrant's  all  right,"  remarked 
Gilmore,  leisurely  folding  the  document  and 
thrusting  it  into  an  inner  pocket.  "  If  it  ain't, 
I'll  be  back,  don't  worry  any  about  that !  It's  al- 
ways a  pleasure  to  call  on  folks  like  you  two.  But 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      225 

I'm  afraid  next  time  I  drop  in  one  of  yuh'll  be 
missing.  Not  you,  yore  honor.  We  can't  spare 
yuh  yet  a  while,  but  we  can  manage  without  Dep- 
uty Enright  an'  not  miss  a  single  drink.  En- 
right,  yuh  hear  me  talkin'  now !  To-night,  before 
twelve  o'clock,  yuh  pull  yore  freight  out  o'  Glenn 
County,  an'  nouiin'  '11  happen  to  yuh  so  far's  I'm 
concerned.  Stay  here,  an'  the  next  time  I  see 
yuh,  yuh  better  come  a-shootin',  'cause  I 
will!" 

"  Yuh  can't  drive  me  out,"  Enright  snarled. 

"  I  can  bury  yuh,"  was  the  imperturbable 
reply. 

"Talk's  cheap!" 

"  So's  lead." 

"Say " 

"  Shut  up !  Listenin'  to  you  is  shore  the  hard- 
est think  I  ever  did,  an'  I  don't  aim  to  do  it  no 
more.  Judge  Trivvy,  my  advice  to  you  is,  go 
slow.  Yo're  an  old  feller,  an'  yuh'd  ought  to  have 
sense  enough  to  see  that  drinkin'  yoreself  to  death 
is  a  heap  easier'n  goin'  to  jail.  Good  night,  gents, 
kindly  keep  those  hands  up  till  I'm  out  o'  the 
doorway.  I  wouldn't  try  to  give  the  alarm  too 
soon,  either.  There's  no  tellin'  how  long  I  may 
be  watchin'  yuh  from  the  window." 

Backing  to  the  door,  Gilmore  reached  behind 
him  with  his  free  hand  and  pulled  the  latch.  He 
slipped  silently  through  the  doorway,  shut  the 
door,  and  raced  toward  his  horse.  His  move- 
ments were  so  swift  that  a  gentleman  crouching 
at  the  corner  of  the  house  had  not  even  time  to 


226      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

rise  when  Gilmore's  knee  hit  him  violently  in  the 
face  and  knocked  him  cold  as  a  wedge. 

Gilmore,  of  course,  fell  all  asprawl,  but  he  was 
an  agile  individual,  and  was  on  his  feet  and  in  full 
motion  in  a  breath. 

The  collision  with  the  crouching  gentleman 
necessarily  entailed  some  commotion.  Hardly 
was  Gilmore  on  his  feet  when  there  were  muffled 
exclamations  from  the  sides  and  rear  of  the 
judge's  house.  Followed  then  the  thump  of  run- 
ning feet  other  than  Gilmore's.  That  young  man 
tore  loose  his  reins,  made  a  flying  leap  into  the 
saddle,  and  was  off  toward  the  river. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

JIMMY,  hot  and  anxious,  met  Gilmore  in  the 
spray  of  his  crossing.  Together  they  raced  west- 
ward in  the  direction  of  Beardance,  swung  round 
the  Little  Kettle  Mountain,  and  struck  out  east- 
ward. Half  an  hour  later  they  dismounted  to 
listen  and  change  horses. 

"  I  can't  hear  nothin',"  announced  Jimmy. 

"  Me  either.  Guess  we  must  'a'  razzle-dazzled 
'em.  Stand  still,  you  Frosty  fellah!  Yuh  ain't 
got  a  kid  straddlin'  yuh  now.  It's  me,  yuh  lump 
o'  sin!" 

"  I  wouldn't  want  to  ride  such  a  sawbuck,"  as- 
serted Jimmy.  "  Why  don't  yuh  feed  him  some- 
thin'  once  in  a  while?  Maybe  the  shock'd  kill  him, 
but  yuh  might  try." 

"  Don't  yuh  fret  any  'bout  this  liT  fellah,"  re- 
marked Gilmore.  "  He's  a  reg'lar  hoss,  he  is,  all 
wool  an'  two  yards  wide.  Naturally,  since  yuh've 
been  ridin'  that  wind-busted  accordeen  of  yores 
yuh  can't  appreciate  a  reg'lar  hoss.  Yuh  will 
when  yo're  older!" 

Three  miles  from  Warrior's  Mark  they  passed 
a  dead  horse.  The  animal  had  been  shot  through 
the  back  of  the  head,  and  a  ragged  furrow  scarred 
his  hide  from  hip  to  shoulder. 


228      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Plugged  while  he  was  goin'  away,"  observed 
Jimmy. 

"  Dead  more'n  a  day,  too.  Look  at  the  way  his 
legs  stick  up.  I'd  shore  admire  to  know  how  his 
rider  found  time  to  take  the  saddle  off." 

"  Here's  another — no  saddle,  either." 

"  Drilled  through  the  chest,  this  fellah  was. 
Maybe  the  sport  ridin'  the  other  one'd  know 
somethin'  about  it.  An'  there's  a  grave.  Ain't 
been  filled  up  long,  either." 

"  Guess  we'll  find  out  all  about  it  at  the 

Say,  ain't  that  a  gent  a-hangin'  on  that  cotton- 
wood?" 

When  they  had  come  close  to  the  cottonwood 
they  saw  that  the  swinging  bundle  was  indeed  a 
man.  Rope  knotted  under  the  ear,  the  body 
swung  slowly  round  and  round  in  the  puffs  of  the 
fitful  breeze;  and  the  features  were  those  of 
Thomas  Johnson,  late  manager  of  the  Lazy  D 
ranch. 

"  Thunder!  "  drawled  Gilmore.  "  I  had  some- 
thin'  I  wanted  to  tell  him  before  that  happened. 
I  wonder  what  was  the  matter  with  Doheny !  " 

On  reaching  Warrior's  Mark  they  rode  at  once 
to  the  jail — or,  rather,  what  was  left  of  the  jail, 
for  the  building  had  been  reduced  to  a  few  piles 
of  drifted  ashes.  Two  houses  on  one  side  and  a 
store  on  the  other  had  been  partially  burned. 
Doheny  stepped  out  of  a  saloon  and  strolled 
toward  them.  He  wore  a  bandage  round  his 
head. 

"  What's  happened?  "  queried  Gilmore. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      229 

"  A  gang  o'  hold-ups  jumped  this  town  early 
yest'day  morning"  explained  Doheny  wrathfully. 
"  They  busted  in  the  door  o'  the  calaboose  with  a 
log.  Then  they  cavorted  off  with  the  prisoners 
an'  set  fire  to  the  calaboose.  The  town  came  near 
burnin'  up." 

"  I  notice  they  stopped  to  lynch  Johnson  out- 
side o'  town  a  ways." 

"  That's  where  we  run  up  on  'em.  We  got  two 
gents  an'  a  hoss.  They  played  mighty  near  even 
by  downin'  one  of  our  boys,  creasin'  another,  an* 
lay  in'  out  a  hoss." 

"  Couldn't  yuh  tell  who  they  were? " 

"  Every  last  one  of  'em  wore  a  hank'chief  over 
his  face." 

"  I'm  bettin'  they  came  from  Plain  Edge — an' 
Virgin  City,  too,  likely.  Have  yuh  buried  the 
two  boys  yuh  downed? " 

"  We  buried  one  where  he  dropped  alongside 
the  trail,  but  the  other  didn't  die  right  away,  so 
we  packed  him  back  to  town.  He's  here  in  So- 
ley's  store.  Want  to  see  him?  " 

"  Shore!    I  might  know  him." 

The  dead  man,  the  upper  part  of  his  body 
swathed  in  bandages,  lay  on  a  table  in  the  back 
room  of  the  store.  The  storekeeper  was  busily 
sewing  flour-sacks  into  a  shroud. 

"  O'  course,"  said  the  storekeeper  shame- 
facedly, "  it  ain't  really  necessary,  but  I  wouldn't 
want  to  have  nothin'  at  all  between  me  an'  the 
dirt." 

One  glance  at  the  silent  dead  was  sufficient  for 


230      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Gilmore.  He  remembered  well  the  red  hair,  the 
red  mustache,  the  red  goatee. 

"  Now  I  know  why  Plain  Edge  was  so  quiet 
the  other  night,  an'  why  Enright  laughed  so 
hearty,"  said  Gilmore.  "  This  fellah  belongs  to 
that  outfit.  His  name's  Red  Hall.  I  wonder 
how  many  from  Virgin  City  an'  the  V  Up-an'- 
Down  was  here  with  'em! " 

Doheny  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"  My  idea  exactly,  when  I  saw  how  they'd 
stretched  Tom  Johnson.  You  just  come  from 
Plain  Edge?" 

"  YeP  •" 

"  Funny  yuh  didn't  meet  'em  on  the  trail! " 

"  I  guess  they  didn't  ride  the  trail.  They  must 
'a'  taken  the  short  cut  over  Packsaddle  Moun- 
tain. Marshal,  can  yuh  tell  us  where  we  can  get 
two  hosses?  Ours  are  played  out." 

"  Yuh  can  have  two  o'  mine.  Where  yuh 
goin' — the  hotel?  No,  y 'ain't,  neither  of  ye. 
Yo're  a-comin'  over  to  my  house.  My  wife'll  be 
glad  to  have  yuh.  It's  just  about  supper-time, 
too." 

When  they  had  eaten,  slept  the  clock  around, 
and  eaten  again,  they  said  good-by  to  the  hos- 
pitable Dohenys,  mounted  the  borrowed  horses, 
and  rode  off  into  the  northwest.  Their  des- 
tination was  the  flag-station  of  Sandy  River 
on  the  B.  and  R.  railroad,  two  hundred  miles 
away. 

Jimmy  asked  no  questions  on  the  trip,  but  he 
thought  a  great  deal.  So  did  Gilmore.  He  had 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      231 

made  a  decision,  and  he  did  not  know  what  effect 
it  would  have  upon  the  heart  of  Louise  Stuart. 
None  the  less  he  meant  to  follow  the  lines  of  that 
decision,  wherever  it  might  lead. 

Sandy  River — which  town  consisted  simply  of 
a  blistered  hotel,  a  blacksmith-shop,  two  saloons, 
a  few  shacks,  and  the  railroad-station  and  water- 
tank — lay  sizzling  in  its  basin  among  the  hills 
when  Gilmore  and  Jimmy  rode  in.  The  two  were 
covered  with  dust,  so  were  the  horses,  and  all  were 
aching  for  a  drink. 

In  the  cool  shadow  of  the  tank  the  agent  had 
built  a  trough  to  catch  the  overflow.  While  the 
caked  horses  plunged  in  their  muzzles,  the  two 
men  drank  deep  of  the  drip  at  the  head  of  the 
trough. 

"  Shore  tastes  good!  "  Jimmy  breathed  ecstat- 
ically, rolling  his  eyes. 

"  It  must,"  remarked  Gilmore.  "  Yuh  sound 
like  yore  hoss." 

"  So  would  you,  yuh  long-legged  sponge,  if 
yuh  had  any  teeth,"  countered  Jimmy.  "  O' 
course,  me  bein'  young  thataway,  I  can't  help 
bein'  noisy  when  I  drink.  Howsomever " 

Jimmy  raised  the  brimming  tin  cup  to  his  lips. 
Gilmore's  hand  flashed  up  and  forward,  and  the 
water  went  splashing  up  into  his  companion's 
face.  Pnorting  and  spluttering,  the  indignant 
Jimmy  scooped  out  half  the  contents  of  the 
trough  in  an  earnest  attempt  to  deluge  Gilmore; 
but  the  latter  fled  to  the  comparative  safety  of 
the  station  doorway,  from  which  point  of  vantage 


232      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

he  twiddled  his  fingers  in  that  world-old  gesture 
of  opprobrium. 

"  I'll  getcha  yet!  "  bawled  Jimmy,  and  started 
to  mop  himself  as  his  friend,  laughing,  disap- 
peared within  the  station. 

"  That  water's  to  drink,  not  to  waste,"  an- 
nounced a  censorious  voice  at  Jimmy's  elbow. 

Jimmy  looked  up  quickly,  his  eyes  narrowing. 

"  Is  it?  "  he  asked  of  the  surly  person  confront- 
ing him.  "What  of  it?" 

"  It  ain't  to  waste,  I  said,"  repeated  the  other. 

"  I  know  yuh  did,"  agreed  Jimmy,  laboriously 
polite.  '  Yuh've  done  said  it  twice  now;  an'  I'm 
still  askin'  yuh,  Angel-face,  what  of  it? " 

Jimmy's  right  hand,  swinging  low,  was  close  to 
the  butt  of  his  gun.  If  his  tone  had  been  frosty, 
his  eyes  were  frostier.  The  surly  person  hesi- 
tated. Plainly,  he  did  not  know  whether  to  risk 
it  or  not.  The  alert  Jimmy  awaited  develop- 
ments. The  surly  man  suddenly  smiled.  It  was 
not  a  pleasant  smile.  It  was  a  wolfish  smile. 

;<  This  town  is  shore  gettin'  populous,"  he  re- 
marked acridly,  and,  wheeling,  walked  briskly 
away. 

"See  yuh  again,  old-timer!"  Jimmy  called 
after  him. 

But  the  man  did  not  turn.  Jimmy  watched  till 
the  fellow  entered  one  of  the  saloons;  then  he 
chuckled  gently  and  followed  Gilmore  into  the 
station.  His  friend  was  in  the  act  of  handing  a 
telegram  to  the  agent. 

"  Rush  her,"  said  Gilmore.    "  I  guess  I'll  take 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      233 

one  o'  yore  envelopes,  an'  some  paper  an'  some 
stamps." 

"  Help  yoreself  to  the  envelopes  an*  paper," 
smiled  the  agent.  "  They're  free,  but  I  ain't  got 
no  stamps.  Yuh'll  have  to  get  them  at  the  store. 
Here's  ink  an'  a  pen  an'  a  blotter — all  the  pleas- 
ures o'  home.  This  telegram  " — his  eyes  skimmed 
the  words — "  will  cost  yuh  three  dollars  an'  six 
bits." 

Gilmore  dug  beneath  his  chaps  and  produced 
the  required  three  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents; 
after  which  he  retreated  with  the  paper  and  pen 
and  ink  to  a  table  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 

Jimmy,  sitting  on  a  case  of  canned  tomatoes, 
noted  that  Gilmore's  letter  was  extremely  short. 
The  missive  written  and  slipped  into  a  long  en- 
velope, Gilmore  took  from  the  inner  pocket  of  his 
vest  a  rectangular  document  and  put  it  in  with 
the  other  sheet.  Then  he  unpinned  his  deputy's 
star,  wrapped  it  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  enclosed 
it  with  the  letter  and  the  document. 

"  Come  on,  Jimmy,"  he  invited,  thumping 
down  the  moistened  flap.  "  Let's  go  over  to  the 
store  and  get  those  stamps." 

The  storekeeper  weighed  the  letter  and  lacon- 
ically mentioned  the  requisite  amount  of  postage. 
When  the  two  men  had  departed,  he  stood  heft- 
ing the  letter  in  a  calloused  paw  and  staring  at 
the  address. 

"I'd  shore  admire  to  know,"  he  muttered, 
"  what  kind  o'  business  them  two  chunkers  has 
with  the  Governor  o'  this  yere  Territory !  " 


234      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  I've  done  it,"  announced  Gilmore,  as  he  and 
Jimmy  headed  back  to  the  station.  "  I've  re- 
signed. I  thought  I  could  fix  things  up  legally, 
but  I've  found  out  it  can't  be  done — not  in  Glenn 
County.  Now  we're  a-goin'  to  see  what  ordinary 
folks  can  do." 

"  Vigilantes !  "  breathed  Jimmy  with  shining 
eyes. 

"  A  fellah  might  call  'em  that,  but  I  guess  it 
don't  really  matter  much  about  the  name.  The 
results  ought  to  be  the  same.  That  telegram  was 
a  call  for  a  few  o'  the  boys." 

"A  few!" 

"  Well,  twenty-five  of  'em,  to  be  exact.  I  told 
'em  to  buy  their  hosses  at  Ringwood,  thirty  mile 
east  o'  here,  an'  wait  for  us  there;  but  I  kind  o' 
guess  we'll  be  on  hand  to  meet  'em." 

Jimmy  halted  in  his  tracks.  With  a  wild  yell 
he  leaped  into  the  air  and  cracked  his  heels  to- 
gether till  the  spurs  rang.  Then  he  shook  loose 
into  the  atmosphere  every  load  in  his  gun. 

"Wow!  Wow!  Wow-w-w-w!"  screamed 
Jimmy.  "  I'm  a  long-haired,  ring-tailed  wolf 
with  forty-four  rattles  an'  a  button,  an'  this  here 
is  the  greatest  day  in  history!  Come  on  an' 
licker!" 

So  shouting,  he  propelled  Gilmore  into  the 
nearest  saloon.  It  happened  to  be  the  very  sa- 
loon entered  by  the  surly  person  a  few  minutes 
before.  The  surly  one  was  still  there.  In  fact, 
excepting  the  bartender,  he  was  the  only  cus- 
tomer. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      235 

At  their  entrance  he  turned,  and  as  quickly 
turned  again  to  his  liquor.  Gilmore  eyed  him 
idly.  He  drank  off  his  whisky,  hunched  his 
grouchy  shoulders,  and  walked  out. 

"  Stomach  don't  seem  to  rest  easy,"  Gilmore 
drawled,  grinning  at  the  bartender. 

"  He's  always  that  way,"  explained  the  bar- 
tender. "  I  dunno  why  he  should  be.  Got  a 
good  job." 

"Ye-es?" 

"  Y'betcha.  He's  owner  o'  the  Barred  O  over 
on  Paint  Creek." 

"  The  Barred  O — don't  guess  I  know  that 
brand,"  Gilmore  said  without  interest. 

"  She's  a  new  one,"  the  bartender  rattled  on. 
"  Only  started  up  about  two  year  ago." 

"  Big  ranch?  "  yawned  Gilmore. 

"  Not  so  roarin'  enormous.  Got  maybe  six, 
seven  hundred  head,  Mack  has." 

"  That  his  name— Mack?  " 

"  Mack— Jim  Mack,  that's  it." 

"  What  for  a  outfit  has  he?  How  many,  I 
mean?" 

"  Three  an'  himself  mostly.  Round-up  he 
hires  extra,  o'  course." 

"  Shore,  he'd  have  to.  Over  on  Paint  Creek, 
yuh  say?  Far  from  here?  " 

'  'Bout  twenty  mile  almost  due  west,  the 
ranch-house  is.  Coin*  there?  " 

"  It's  all  accordin'.  Can't  ever  tell  what  we're 
goin'  to  do.  Let's  drag  it,  Jimmy." 

When  they  were  half-way  to  the  tank  where 


236     The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

they  had  left  their  horses  they  looked  at  each 
other. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  back  to  Warrior's  Mark," 
Jimmy  announced  in  a  drawling  singsong. 

'  We  won't,"  Gilmore  assured  him.  '  We're 
a-goin'  to  stick  around  Sandy  River.  It's  just 
possible  we  might  go  fishin'  in  Paint  Creek — 
'bout  twenty  mile  due  west." 

"  Yep,  I  guess  now  that'll  be  the  right  place. 
I  hear  the  fishin's  real  good  over  there." 

"  She'd  ought  to  be." 

"  Barred  O,  Barred  O — real  ingenious,  I  call 
it!" 

"  Yo're  shore  whistlin',  James.  Let  me  tell 
you,  it's  amazin'  what  miracles  can  be  done  with  a 
heavy  iron  an'  a  wet  blanket.  Did  that  bartender 
say  six  or  seven  hundred  head? " 

"  He  said  both.    Take  yore  choice." 

"  I'd  rather  take  the  cattle." 

Jimmy  laughed  uproariously,  as  at  the  great- 
est joke  in  the  world.  Truly,  the  humor  of  the 
frontier  is  often  more  elemental  than  subtle. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

EARLY  the  following  morning  the  two  friends 
departed  from  Sandy  River,  and  noon  found 
them  leisurely  riding  the  range  of  the  Barred  O. 
The  first  cow  they  sighted  bore  the  brand  and 
was  grazing  in  a  draw — which  seemed  providen- 
tial. Between  the  screening  slopes  they  roped  the 
cow  and  threw  her.  Leaving  the  horses  to  hold 
the  animal  prostrate  and  quiescent,  they  dis- 
mounted and  examined  the  brand. 

Now  it  is  even  simpler  to  contrive  the  Barred 
O  out  of  the  Lazy  D  than  it  is  to  alter  the  Hash 
Knife  into  the  Lazy  H-in-a-Circle. 

"  Those  experts  shore  have  a  gall ! "  pro- 
nounced the  exasperated  Gilmore. 

"  Yo're  whistlin',"  agreed  Jimmy.  "  But  any 
gents  what  can  turn  out  work  like  this  shore 
hadn't  ought  to  'a'  stopped  at  seven  hundred 
head.  It's  just  as  easy  to  rustle  a  thousand." 

"  Give  'em  time.  They're  young  yet.  I  won- 
der if  they're  all  Barred  O!  " 

"  We  got  all  the  time  there  is  to  find  out." 

They  saw  many  cows  during  the  afternoon,  but 
all  were  Barred  O. 

They  rode  back  to  Sandy  River  to  spend  the 
night,  and  in  the  morning  were  out  again  on  the 


238      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Barred  O  range.  This  day  they  rode  the  eastern 
part  of  the  range,  and  soon  came  upon  a 
cow  bogged  down  in  a  water-hole.  Gilmore 
pulled  out  the  unfortunate  animal.  When  they 
had  thrown  her  and  scraped  the  mud  from  her 
hip,  they  found  that  the  brand  was  the  Barred 
Diamond  Eight.  They  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Triangle  O,"  affirmed  Gilmore.  "  Turn  her 
over,  an'  there  y'are." 

"  She's  just  too  easy,"  said  Jimmy.  "  The  bar- 
keep  didn't  Say  nothin'  about  this  brand,  though." 

"  Maybe  he  forgot  it,"  suggested  Gilmore, 
freeing  the  cow.  "  This  seems  to  be  one  forgetful 
country." 

Crack!  A  rifle  spoke  thinly  from  a  neighbor- 
ing hill.  Gilmore's  horse  fell  to  its  knees,  then 
collapsed  with  a  grunt.  Gilmore  promptly 
crawled  behind  him. 

"  Get  around  into  that  draw,  Jimmy — quick!  " 
he  ordered. 

But  Jimmy  and  his  horse  had  started  for  it 
almost  at  the  shot.  They  reached  it  safely,  al- 
though three  bullets  dusted  the  ground  close  to 
the  pattering  hoofs.  Gilmore,  behind  the  body  of 
his  horse,  had  wormed  his  Winchester  out  of  its 
scabbard — the  poor  brute  was  lying  on  it — and 
was  methodically  sending  shot  after  shot  into  the 
drifting  smoke  marking  the  position  of  the  bush- 
whacking gentleman  on  the  hill. 

The  latter  was  somewhat  of  a  marksman.  He 
planted  three  bullets  in  the  belly  of  the  dead 
horse,  and  once  he  perforated  Gilmore's  hat.  As 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      239 

the  hat  jerked  Gilmore  swore,  forjt  was  a  good 
hat,  and  had  cost  him  twenty  dollars  in  Santa  Fe. 
He  removed  his  expensive  head-covering  and 
tucked  it  tenderly  under  the  horse's  neck. 

Then  he  raised  his  head  slightly  for  a  sight  of 
the  enemy,  and  a  bullet  filled  his  mouth  and  eyes 
with  sand.  This  destroyed  his  usefulness  for 
some  minutes. 

"  D'he  hit  yuh?  "  Jimmy  shouted  anxiously 
from  the  shelter  of  the  draw. 

"  Got  sand  in  my  eyes  an'  mouth,"  explained 
Gilmore,  and  swore  softly  as  he  almost  broke  a 
tooth  on  a  piece  of  grit. 

"  Try  keepin'  yore  mouth  shut,"  gibed  Jimmy. 
"  If  it's  a  strain,  tie  a  hankercher  round  yore  jaw, 
like  yuh  do  for  the  toothache.  Say,  that  feller 
can  shoot ! " 

'  Whatcha  think  he  can  do — play  the  organ  in 
a  choir?  Hit  yuh?" 

"  Missed  my  ear  by  a  flea's  hind  leg,  the  pup ! 
He'll  hit  somebody  yet,  if  we  don't  stop  him. 
Git  yore  field-glasses  out,  will  yuh?  " 

"  Can't — they're  too  far  under  the  hoss." 

"  Well,  I  can't  see  him  move,  but  I  know  where 
he  is.  You  keep  him  busy,  an'  I'll  work  round 
behind  him." 

"Can  yuh?" 

"  I  dunno,  but  the  ground  over  this  way  looks 
like  I  could.  Maybe  I  can  rustle  his  hoss,  any- 
way. If  I  do,  I'll  sell  him  to  yuh  cheap,  an' 
throw  in  the  saddle.  Is  it  hot  where  you  are, 
Dal?" 


240      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"No,  it's  colder'n  all  Hades!  Shut  up  an' 
vamose ! " 

"  In  a  minute,  when  I  get  my  rifle  loaded. 
Why  don'tcha  come  over  here  in  the  draw,  an' 
wait  till  I  get  back  with  this  hold-up's  hair  an' 
hoss?  It's  fine  an'  shady  here  under  this  liT 
cedar-tree.  Come  on,  she's  only  a  hundred  yards, 
an  maybe  he  won't  hit  yuh.  Run  kind  o'  wriggly 
like,  an'  yuh'll  have  a  better  chance!  " 

"You  tomfool!"  called  the  affectionate  Gil- 
more.  "  Get  a  move  on !  " 

"  Startin',  deary,  startin'.  Be  good  while 
papa's  away,  an'  don't'stray  out  o'  the  yard!  " 

Gilmore  was  devoting  himself  to  the  serious 
business  of  endeavoring  to  puncture  his  hard- 
shooting  opponent  without  being  punctured  him- 
self. 

"  Bet  that  one  got  him! "  he  observed  half  an 
hour  later,  when  there  was  no  response  to  his  last 
shot. 

He  raised  an  incautious  head.  Instantly,  on 
the  neighboring  hill,  mushroomed  the  familiar 
smoke-puff.  It  seemed,  too,  that  a  gigantic  bee 
had  seized  that  very  moment  to  sting  his  right 
ear.  Ducking  his  head  with  ludicrous  haste,  Gil- 
more  raised  exploring  fingers.  He  brought  them 
away  covered  with  blood.  The  tip  of  his  right  ear 
was  missing. 

"  Which  the  range  is  a  good  seven  hundred  an' 
fifty,"  he  remarked,  tying  his  neckerchief  round 
his  head,  "  an'  he  comes  as  close  to  me  as  that. 
An'  me,  I  ain't  seen  him  yet.  This  is  disgustin' !  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      241 

Another  bullet  scored  the  swell-fork  of  his  sad- 
dle. A  second  drilled  his  rolled-up  slicker 
through  and  through.  A  third  bored  a  cantina. 

"  First  my  hat,  then  me,  then  my  saddle," 
mourned  Gilmore,  squirming  to  his  horse's  hind- 
quarters for  another  try.  "  An'  she's  only  two 
years  old,  that  saddle.  Here's  luck  to  Jimmy !  " 

He  fired  three  shots  in  the  direction  of  the 
bushwhacker  and  drew  a  reply.  Then  he  laid 
down  his  rifle  and  rolled  a  cigarette.  He  smoked 
it  slowly,  taking  care  to  blow  the  smoke  along  the 
ground. 

Suddenly  he  seized  his  Winchester,  snicked  the 
rear  sight  to  six  hundred  yards,  and  cuddled 
down.  His  opponent  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  had 
suddenly  jumped  into  view,  and  was  seeking  a 
lower  altitude  as  fast  as  he  could  run.  Ragged 
swirls  of  smoke  at  the  top  of  the  hill  told  the 
story.  Jimmy  had  arrived. 

Gilmore,  squinting  along  the  sights,  pulled 
trigger  quickly.  The  fleeing  man  pitched  for- 
ward on  his  face,  rolled  over,  and  lay  still,  his 
booted  legs  higher  than  his  head.  Gilmore  scram- 
bled to  his  feet,  slapped  on  his  hat,  and  hurried 
across  the  flat.  Jimmy  was  standing  beside  the 
body  when  his  friend  came  up. 

"  Nick  yuh  bad?  "  Jimmy  asked  with  concern, 
at  sight  of  Gilmore's  bandage. 

"  Only  the  tip  o'  my  ear,"  the  other  answered, 
gazing  down  at  the  dead  face.  "  It  ain't  Jim 
Mack,  after  all!" 

The  dead  man  looked  like  any  other  hard- 


242      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

working  cowboy,  and  there  was  nothing  about 
him  to  reveal  his  identity.  Jimmy  had  discov- 
ered his  horse  in  a  hollow  behind  the  hill,  so  they 
rolled  him  in  his  own  saddle-blanket  and  piled 
rocks  on  him  to  keep  the  wolves  away. 

"  One  more  down,"  Gilmore  remarked  without 
elation,  placing  the  dead  man's  saddle  on  top  of 
the  little  cairn. 

"  He  won't  be  the  last,"  said  the  practical 
Jimmy.  "  He  shore  had  a  good  red  hoss.  Look 
at  them  laigs,  will  yuh?  Bet  he  rustled  him,  even 
though  the  brand  is  Barred  O.  Aw,  don't  look  so 
gloomersome!  He  got  what  was  comin'  to  him." 

"  Maybe,"  hesitated  Gilmore,  assailed  by  an 
uncomfortable  thought — "  maybe  he  took  us  for 
rustlers ! " 

Jimmy  stared. 

"  Maybe  he  took  us  for  Mr.  an'  Mrs.  King  of 
England !  "  he  exclaimed  with  deep  sarcasm. 

"  I  mean  this  here  Barred  O  may  be  all  right," 
detailed  Gilmore.  "  The  brand  on  that  cow  was 
all  healed  up." 

"Aw,  say,  yuh  make  me  sick!"  declared 
Jimmy,  greatly  taken  aback.  "  Look  at  the  way 
that  brand  was  made !  Look  at  the  way  the  edges 
came  together !  Y'ain't  goin'  to  let  'em  get  away 
with  it,  are  yuh?  Why,  what'sa  matter  with  yuh, 
Dal?  She's  just  a  plain  open  an'  shut  case.  An' 
you  ain't  a  deputy  no  more,"  he  added  signifi- 
cantly. 

"  We'll  see  what  turns  up,"  returned  Gilmore, 
whose  conscience  was  beginning  to  trouble  him. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

"  I  JUDGE  she's  an  even  break,"  sagely  ob- 
served Jimmy,  when  they  were  riding  eastward. 
"  Tom  Johnson  rustles  cows  from  the  Hash 
Knife  an'  V  Up-an'-Down,  an'  they  turn  round 
an'  rustle  'em  from  Tom.  It's  a  great  game.  Got 
a  match,  Dal? " 

"  An'  the  makin's,  an'  can't  I  hold  my  hat  for 
yuh  while  yuh  light  it?  " 

"  Yuh  could  if  there  was  any  wind.  What  yuh 
goin'  to  do  about  that  Crowner  party?  " 

*  Why,  I'm  goin'  to  go  up  an'  shake  hands 
with  him.  What  yuh  s'pose?  " 

"  I  know!  "  Jimmy  nodded  gloomily.  "  Yuh'll 
give  the  coyote  a  chance.  I  know  you,  an'  that's 
just  what  yuh'll  do.  Here's  a  plain  killer  out  to 
beef  yuh,  an'  do  you  aim  to  bust  him  on  sight? 
Not  you!  I  tell  yuh  flat,  Dal,  some  day  yore 
charitable  nature  will  make  yuh  sorry  a  lot,  only 
yuh'll  be  too  dead  to  know  it." 

"  Every  man  does  things  his  own  way,"  replied 
Gilmore.  "  But  you'd  give  him  a  chance  yore 
own  self.  Yuh  know  mighty  well  yuh  would." 

"Not  with  a  skunk  like  that  I  wouldn't," 
stoutly  defended  Jimmy.  "  I'd  drop  him  any  old 
way  was  easiest." 


244      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Maybe  yuh'll  have  the  chance.  Anyhow, 
there's  no  use  thinkin'  about  Crowner  now.  We 
won't  see  him  till  we  go  back  Virgin  City  way." 

"  I  dunno.  Look  at  the  run  o'  luck  we've  had. 
I  know  them  prisoners  was  turned  loose,  but 
Johnson  was  hung,  so  yuh  play  pretty  near  even 
on  that;  an'  they  missed  us  on  the  trail.  That's 
shore  somethin'.  Now  here  we  cut  the  trail  o'  this 
Mack  party  by  luck — pure  luck,  'tain't  nothin' 
else.  Nothin'  else  but  that  brought  us  to  Sandy 
River.  Luck  don't  hold  forever.  We're  due 
for  a  break,  I  tell  yuh.  It  may  be  'most  anythin' 
— a  busted  laig,  a  rustled  hoss,  or  Crowner." 

"  Yo're  a  cheerful  cuss,  you  are!  Yuh  always 
see  the  silver  linin',  don't  yuh?  " 

"  You  wait.    You  just  wait.    You'll  see." 

"  Yeah,  maybe  so.  But  here's  more  luck,  un- 
less my  eyes  deceive  me.  See  those  cows  over 
yonder  by  the  big  rock?  Do  they  limp,  or  don't 
they?  An'  now  that  we're  a  little  closer,  sling 
yore  eyes  over  the  brands.  Barred  O  an'  Barred 
Diamond  Eight,  ain't  they?  An'  by  the  fresh- 
ness o'  the  burn,  they  were  branded  not  longer 
ago  than  day  before  yest'day." 

"  They're  three-year-olds,  too,"  averred 
Jimmy. 

"  That  red  steer  next  the  white  cow  is  a  four- 
year-old,  or  I'm  Dutch !  " 

"  Limpin' — an'  poor,  all  of  'em.  They've  shore 
been  drove  hard  an'  lately.  Ain't  yuh  satisfied 
now,  Dal?" 

"  Pretty  near." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      245 

The  two  did  not  return  to  Sandy  River,  for 
the  red  horse  in  Gilmore's  possession  might  re- 
quire explaining,  and  it  was  Jim  Mack's  home 
town.  So  they  made  camp  in  a  draw  five  miles 
north  of  the  place. 

The  evidence  against  Mack,  taking  into  con- 
sideration the  time  and  the  place,  was  not  fairly 
conclusive;  but  Gilmore  was  a  thorough  person. 
In  the  morning  he  borrowed  Jimmy's  horse  and 
rode  to  town,  where  he  spent  the  day  making  ac- 
quaintances. The  latter  talked  more  or  less — 
usually  less.  Even  so,  Gilmore  became  pos- 
sessed of  the  knowledge  that  the  Barred  Dia- 
mond Eight  brand  belonged  to  Mack's  foreman, 
and  that  the  Barred  O  ranch  had  started  life  with 
twenty  cows  and  eighteen  steers. 

"  Twenty  cows  an'  eighteen  steers ! "  cried 
Jimmy,  when  he  heard  the  joyful  news.  *  That 
was  two  year  ago,  an'  he's  got  six  or  seven  hun- 
dred head  now!  That  shore  does  beat  guinea- 
pigs!" 

The  next  day  Gilmore  and  Jimmy  rode  east- 
ward in  the  direction  of  Ringwood.  They  did 
not  risk  entering  the  town,  but,  following  their 
plan  of  campaign  at  Sandy  River,  made  camp  a 
few  miles  outside  of  the  place.  As  before,  Gil- 
more  rode  in  on  Jimmy's  horse. 

Ringwood,  twice  as  large  as  Sandy  River, 
boasted  five  saloons.  Gilmore  dismounted  in 
front  of  the  Palace.  He  strode  whistling  to  the 
deserted  bar  and  called  for  liquor.  His  gaze, 
roving  round  the  room,  fell  upon  a  quiet  i'ndi- 


246      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

vidual  sitting  in  a  chair  tipped  back  against  a 
side  wall.    The  quiet  individual  was  Crowner. 

The  sight  of  that  hawk-nose  and  hairless  face 
would,  under  the  circumstances,  have  been  a  dis- 
tinct shock  to  less  rugged  nerves  than  those  of 
Gilmore.  But  Gilmore's  eyes  swept  calmly  on 
round  the  room  and  finally  came  to  rest  on  the 
face  of  the  bartender. 

'  Two  bits,"  gruffly  announced  the  latter,  mis- 
taking Gilmore's  smile  for  a  sign  of  weakness. 

"  Two  bits  back  in  the  hills,"  corrected  Gil- 
more,  "  but  not  on  the  railroad.  A  dime  a  throw, 
huh? " 

The  bartender  silently  swept  the  proffered 
dime  into  the  cash-drawer.  Gilmore's  fingers 
curved  round  the  glass.  His  brain  was  busy  pon- 
dering the  question  whether  Crowner  knew  him 
behind  the  beard.  Had  the  killer  left  Plain  Edge 
before  Enright  or  the  judge  had  been  able  to  tell 
him  of  the  whiskers?  It  would  seem  so,  for 
Crowner  was  evincing  not  the  slightest  show  of 
interest,  or  even  of  animation. 

Gilmore,  since  taking  note  of  the  other's  pres- 
ence, had  so  maneuvered  his  body  that  he  could 
watch  him  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye.  He  con- 
sumed an  inordinate  amount  of  time  in  swallow- 
ing his  drink.  Yet  Crowner  remained  motionless. 
Gilmore  was  unable  to  tell  where  those  black  eyes 
were  looking. 

"  Have  a  drink,  stranger? "  was  Gilmore's 
abrupt  invitation,  delivered  with  his  most  en- 
gaging grin. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      247 

"  Don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  Crowner  promptly. 

Rising,  he  sauntered  across  to  the  bar.  Gil- 
more  treated,  Crowner  treated,  and  they  had  one 
on  the  house.  Gilmore  proposed  a  game  of  cards. 

"  There's  only  two  of  us — let's  make  it  draw," 
Crowner  suggested  in  a  flat,  uninterested  tone. 

Gilmore  immediately  seated  himself  behind  a 
table  in  a  corner,  where  he  had  a  windowless  wall 
at  his  back  and  left  hand  and  his  view  of  the  door 
was  unobstructed. 

"  I  don't  like  to  sit  with  my  back  to  a  door," 
Crowner  coldly  objected,  his  eyes  fixed  on  Gil- 
more's  face. 

"  All  right,"  said  Gilmore,  instantly  changing 
his  seat.  "  I  don't,  either.  We'll  sit  sideways  to 
the  door.  Nothin'  fairer'n  that,  is  they?  " 

Crowner  grunted  and  sat  down.  They  cut 
for  deal.  Gilmore  won. 

Hardly  had  the  first  round  been  dealt  when 
Jimmy  entered,  looked  around,  saw  Gilmore, 
turned  away  his  head,  and  almost  galloped  to  the 
bar,  calling  loudly  for  refreshment. 

Gilmore,  playing  mechanically,  wondered 
greatly  what  contingency  had  arisen  to  bring 
Jimmy  to  town.  For  Jimmy  had  been  instructed 
to  remain  in  camp,  and  Jimmy  always  obeyed 
orders  except  when  some  emergency  dictated 
otherwise. 

Having  gulped  his  drink,  Jimmy  sat  down  on 
a  chair  from  which  he  could  watch  the  door, 
crossed  his  knees,  and  hooked  his  thumbs  in  his 
belt ;  all  with  no  sign  of  recognition  for  Gilmore. 


248      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

The  latter  continued  to  play — and  to  wonder  at 
Jimmy's  actions.  Crowner  played  listlessly.  He 
even  scooped  in  his  winnings  draggingly. 

Not  for  a  single  instant  did  Gilmore  relax  his 
vigilance.  When  Crowner 's  hands,  in  the  exi- 
gencies of  play,  moved  beltward,  Gilmore's  fol- 
lowed suit.  At  the  end  of  twenty  minutes,  with 
Crowner's  first  hostile  move  yet  to  be  made,  Gil- 
more  concluded  that  the  killer  did  not  know  him, 
and  determined  to  force  the  issue. 

"  Might  I  ask  yore  name? "  he  inquired. 

"  You  might,"  Crowner  parried,  his  blank 
stare  telling  nothing. 

"  I'm  askin',"  pursued  Gilmore,  his  cards  face 
down  on  the  table,  his  finger-tips  lightly  touching 
the  wood. 

"  Well,  it  might  be  'most  anythin',"  countered 
the  unhelpful  Crowner.  "  Was  yuh  real  inter- 
ested in  knowin'  ? " 

"  Shore." 

"  Might  yuh  be  a  sheriff  or  somethin'  like 
that? "  Crowner's  thumbs  were  hooked  in  the 
armholes  of  his  vest. 

"  Yo're  shore  a  hard  man  to  get  anythin'  out 
of,"  Gilmore  complained.  "  I  was  just  askin'  so 
as  to  help  yuh  earn  some  money." 

"Money?"  The  lean  lips  curled  in  a  smile. 
Gilmore  nodded. 

"  Quite  a  lot  o'  money.  But  yuh'll  shore  earn 
it,  fellah!" 

"  Fellah!  "  Here  was  the  height  of  calculated 
rudeness.  Crowner's  mouth  straightened  to  a 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      249 

slit.  His  right  shoulder  moved  -upward  ever  so 
little.  He  silently  inspected  his  fellow  player. 

"  My  name,"  Gilmore  said  with  a  deadly  gen- 
tleness, "  is  Gilmore — Crowner!  " 

Crowner  did  not  move  a  muscle  at  the  an- 
nouncement. He  simply  continued  to  stare. 

"  Yuh  see,  Crowner,"  explained  Gilmore,  "  I 
was  outside  the  window  listenin'  the  night  En- 
right  an'  you  an'  the  judge  had  yore  little  confer- 
ence up  in  Plain  Edge.  I'm  just  tellin'  yuh  who 
I  am  so's  yuh  could  earn  the  rest  of  yore — 
wages ! " 

"  Now  that's  what  I  call  bein'  polite,"  Crowner 
declared  smoothly.  "  I'm  grateful  to  yuh. 
Them  whiskers  are  shore  as  deceivin'  as  a  ban- 
danna over  a  road-agent's  face.  I  dunno  but 
what  I  like  the  bandanna  better.  Yore  impulsive 
friend  there  has  pulled  his  gun,"  he  added  fret- 
fully. 

"  He  won't  shoot,"  Gilmore  assured  him. 
"  Yuh  see,  he  don't  know  yuh  like  I  do.  Likely 
he  thought  yuh  weren't  worth  givin'  a  chance  to. 
Maybe  he's  wrong,  maybe  he's  right.  Anyhow, 
it'd  pay  yuh  a  whole  lot  to  sort  o'  keep  yore  eyes 
on  me  instead  t)f  lookin'  to  see  what  my  friends 
are  doin'." 

"  Don't  yuh  worry  none  about  me  not  keepin' 
my  eyes  on  yuh,"  said  Crowner.  "  I  could  tell 
he  pulled  his  gun  'cause  I  heard  his  holster  shift- 
in'.  He'd  ought  to  tie  it  down,  like  I  do  mine." 

"  He  might  need  to  if  he  was  in  yore  busi- 
ness," flashed  the  counter,  pat  and  pithy.  "  Any- 


250      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

how,  you  an'  I  are  wanderin'  off  the  range.  I 
take  it  yuh  believe  in  windin'  up  a  business  matter 
prompt  an'  right  away?  " 

"  The  sooner  the  quicker,"  agreed  Crowner. 

'  Then  the  rest  is  easy.  We  can  lay  our  guns 
handy  on  the  table,  start  playin'  cards  again,  an' 
grab  our  guns  whenever  we  feel  like  it;  or  we 
can  take  off  our  artillery,  clamp  our  left  hands 
together,  an'  go  to  carvin'  with  our  knives.  If 
yuh  ain't  got  a  bowie,  yuh  can  borrow  one  some- 
'eres.  Or  else  yuh  can  go  out  in  the  street  with 
me,  walk  away  a  hundred  yards,  start  back, 
an'  set  yore  gun  a-goin'  whenever  yuh  feel  like 
it." 

"  I  don't  care  nothin'  about  that  knife  busi- 
ness," Crowner  declared  with  emphasis.  "  Lay  in' 
our  guns  on  the  table,  or  shootin'  it  out  in  the 
street — they  both  listen  well.  But  while  I'm  thus 
walkin'  away  from  yuh  in  the  street,  how  do  I 
know  you  or  yore  friend  won't  plug  me?  " 

Gilmore's  eyes  blazed ;  then  he  smiled.  "  Yuh' 11 
have  to  take  my  word  that  yuh  won't  be  plugged. 
If  yo're  still  worried,  yuh  can  back  away  the 
whole  hundred  yards;  then  yuh  won't  have  to 
take  yore  eyes  off  me.  Which  is  it — in  here  or 
out  there? " 

"  Let's  finish  our  game,"  suggested  Crowner. 

Gilmore  nodded.  The  two  watching  each  other 
with  the  keenness  of  nervous  cats,  slowly  dragged 
out  their  six-shooters  and  laid  them  on  the  table 
within  easy  reach. 

"  Say,"  exclaimed  the  bartender,  speaking  for 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      251 

the  first  time,  "  I  wish  you  gents,  would  go  out 
in  the  street.  I  don't  like  gun-fights  in  here !  " 

"Shut  up!"  snapped  Jimmy.  "This  ain't 
none  o'  yore  battle." 

"  I  tell  yuh " 

"  Yuh'll  tell  me  just  less'n  nothin'.  An'  don't 
go  reachin'  for  no  sawed-off  shotguns,  neither. 
Go  right  on  arrangin'  them  bottles  an'  glasses, 
an'  keep  yore  paws  in  plain  sight! " 

The  card-players  had  paid  no  attention  to  the 
verbal  contretemps.  The  deck  was  cut,  shuffled, 
and  dealt  with  a  tranquil  serenity  worthy  of  the 
best  gambling-house  in  Cheyenne.  Seven  times 
the  deal  changed  hands.  The  soft  shuffle  of  the 
cards  on  the  table  was  answered  from  behind  the 
bar  by  the  scrape  and  clink  of  glassware  as  the 
bartender  complied  with  Jimmy's  orders. 

Gilmore  had  coldly  calculated  the  chances  in 
this  card-and-gun  duello,  and  had  concluded  that 
he  was  running  the  lesser  risk.  The  longer  the 
game  lasted,  the  greater  would  be  the  strain  on 
the  players,*  and  Gilmore  knew  that  his  own  steel 
nerves  were  proof  against  any  tension.  He  had 
no  knowledge  of  the  state  of  Crowner's  nerves, 
but  he  was  betting  that  they  were  not  on  a  par 
with  his  own.  His  belief  was  well  founded,  for 
Crowner  was  his  elder  by  a  good  ten  years,  and  in 
such  a  grim  game  as  this  the  odds  are  on  the 
younger  man. 

Suddenly,  on  the  eighth  deal,  as  Crowner  was 
on  the  point  of  picking  up  his  hand,  the  bartender 
dropped  a  bottle.  Whether  the  sharp  crash  un- 


252      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

steadied  taut  nerves,  or  whether  Crowner  judged 
that  the  decisive  moment  had  arrived,  will  never 
be  known.  It  is  history  that  at  the  sound  of  the 
breaking  glass  his  right  hand  moved  lightning- 
like  toward  his  gun;  but  his  speed  was  over- 
matched by  an  uncannier,  swifter  legerdemain. 
His  fingers  had  barely  touched  the  butt  of  his  six- 
shooter  when  he  sighed  deeply  and  fell  forward 
across  the  table  with  a  round,  blue-bordered  hole 
in  the  middle  of  his  forehead. 

Gilmore  flipped  up  his  smoking  revolver  and 
ejected  the  empty  shell.  Unhurriedly  he  drew  a 
cartridge  from  his  belt  and  inserted  it  in  the 
empty  chamber.  He  slid  the  gun  into  its  holster 
and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Come  on,  Dal,"  urged  Jimmy,  already  at  the 
door. 

"  Say,  y'ain't  goin'  to  leave  that  remainder 
here  for  me  to  bury,  are  yuh? "  tremulously  re- 
monstrated the  bartender. 

"  He's  got  money,"  said  Gilmore,  jerking  his 
thumb  at  the  dead  man,  whose  face  lay  among  the 
scattered  cards.  "  An'  he  hasn't  any  heirs — least- 
wise, what  money  he's  got  sort  o'  belongs  to  me 
in  a  way.  I  don't  want  it.  It'll  pay  for  his 
buryin',  easy,  an'  yuh  can  have  what's  left." 

Gilmore  passed  out  of  the  barroom  in  Jimmy's 
wake.  Under  the  eyes  of  the  curious  they  walked 
along  the  street,  Gilmore  leading  his  horse. 

"  We  got  to  drift,"  were  Jimmy's  first  words. 

"  Why?  " 

"  That  blame  red  cayuse.    I'm  settin'  there  on 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      253 

my  blanket  rollin'  a  pill,  a  little  while  after  you 
left,  when  a  long  sharp  on  a  short  hoss  sifted  into 
camp.  '  Howdy/  says  he,  an'  borries  matches. 
Out  o'  the  side  of  his  eye  I  can  see  he's  takin'  in 
the  red  hoss  an'  the  Barred  O  brand.  Now  he 
come  into  camp  from  the  west  an'  he  rode  out  to 
the  east  all  right,  but  that  look  in  his  eye  was 
funny;  so  I  clumb  up  on  that  little  hill  south  o' 
camp  an'  watches  the  jigger.  Shore  'miff,  he 
fetches  a  half-circle  round  camp  an'  drags  it  west- 
'ard  like  he  had  a  sick  wife  or  somethin'.  By  the 
way  he  was  streakin'  it,  he'd  ought  to  be  in  Sandy 
River  pronto" 

"  Where'd  yuh  leave  the  hoss?  " 

"  I  tied  him  to  a  post  behind  that  corral  at  the 
near  end  o'  town.  He's  pretty  dusty,  anyway, 
an'  I  muddied  up  the  brand  at  the  ford,  so  I 
guess  there  ain't  no  chance  o'  his  bein'  recognized 
unless  somebody  knows  him  real  well." 

"  You  better  wiggle  along  back  to  yore  hoss 
while  I  buy  some  grub." 

"  Get  some  makin's  an'  chawin'  too.  I'm  near 
out,  an'  we'll  be  dodgin'  a  posse  now  for  a  week 
or  ten  days  till  the  boys  get  here." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

FOR  three  days  Gilmore  and  Jimmy  pushed 
their  horses  to  the  limit  of  the  animals'  endurance. 
They  rode  in  the  water,  they  rode  on  rocky 
ground,  they  doubled  on  their  tracks,  they  swam 
the  wide  Belleflamme — nothing  was  left  to 
chance. 

"  I  guess  we're  safe  for  a  spell,"  observed  Gil- 
more  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day. 

"  We'd  ought  to  be,"  said  Jimmy.  "  We're  a 
hundred  and  fifty  mile  north  o'  Ringwood,  an' 
we've  made  a  heap  o'  trail — two  hundred  mile, 
anyway." 

So  that  day  they  rested  themselves  and  their 
horses  on  the  edge  of  a  wooded  plateau,  and  the 
following  morning  Gilmore  awoke  to  see  a  band 
of  twelve  riders  in  the  valley  below.  The  horse- 
men had  halted  and  appeared  to  be  debating. 
They  were  barely  a  mile  distant. 

Gilmore  and  Jimmy  did  not  remain  for  break- 
fast. They  flung  the  saddles  on  their  horses  and 
crossed  the  wooded  plateau  at  a  gallop.  Again 
they  were  compelled  to  twist  and  dodge  and  have 
recourse  to  the  water  and  the  hard  ground. 

Once,  while  passing  through  a  canon,  they 
were  fired  at  from  the  top  of  the  cliffs.  The  hid- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      255 

den  marksman  emptied  his  magazine,  but  shoot- 
ing downward  makes  for  overshooting,  and  all  the 
shots  went  high.  Other  rifles  took  up  the  tale  be- 
fore the  two  fugitives  could  get  out  of  range, 
but  fortunately  the  marksmanship  did  not  im- 
prove. 

Luck  continued  to  be  with  Gilmore  and 
Jimmy.  To  reach  the  floor  of  the  canon  the  pur- 
suers were  compelled  to  make  a  fifteen-mile  de- 
tour. By  the  time  they  had  covered  the  fifteen 
miles,  the  pursued  were  well  on  their  way  else- 
where and  still  going  at  a  good  gait. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  recount  how^  Gilmore 
and  Jimmy  spent  the  ensuing  ten  days.  Let  it 
suffice  to  say  that  they  rode  hard,  slept  little,  and 
ate  less.  They  covered  a  deal  of  broken  country, 
and  saw  no  further  signs  of  their  trailers.  On 
the  eleventh  day  they  swung  southward,  and 
early  one  morning,  two  weeks  after  their  hasty 
departure,  they  rode  into  Ringwood.  Their  ac- 
tion was  not  so  bold  as  it  appeared,  for  they  had 
reconnoitered  the  town  during  the  previous  night 
and  found  that  which  they  sought. 

A  lanky  young  cow-puncher  standing  in  the 
hotel  doorway  squinted  his  eyes  at  the  two  ap- 
proaching riders. 

"Here  they  come,  boys!"  he  flung  over  his 
shoulder  in  a  delighted  tone,  &nd  stepped  out  into 
the  street  with  a  loud  yell  of  welcome. 

From  the  hotel  poured  twenty-four  cow-men. 
They  were  of  all  ages,  all  sizes,  and,  judging  by 
their  bellowings,  in  excellent  spirits. 


256      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  They're  shore  a  great  crowd,"  observed  Gil- 
more  to  Jimmy. 

"Ain't  they,  huh?  Look  at  Big  Art,  all 
dressed  up  like  King  Solomon's  pet  pony,  an' 
Dakota — he's  wearin'  two  guns.  Hello,  Dakota, 
when  djuh  get  here?  " 

"  Oh,  we  been  here  a  month,"  came  the  reply 
from  the  sidewalk.  "  I'd  'a'  married  an'  settled 
down  if  you  fellers  hadn't  pulled  in  to-day." 

"  Yep,"  bawled  Big  Art,  "  Dakota  has  the  gal 
all  picked  out.  Fine-lookin'  lady  she  is.  She 
don't  weigh  an  ounce  more'n  three  hundred,  an' 
yuh'd  never  know  she  was  Injun — in  the  dark!  " 

Dakota  was  immediately  thumped  by  every 
one  able  to  reach  him. 

"Quit  it,  can'tcha?"  shouted  Dakota.  "Lemme 
alone,  or  I'll  shore  step  on  somebody's  face  with 
both  feet!" 

At  this  juncture  the  town  marshal,  followed 
by  three  set-featured  citizens,  was  crossing  the 
street  in  the  direction  of  Gilmore  and  Jimmy. 
The  latter,  who  had  dismounted,  promptly  slipped 
behind  their  horses.  The  twenty-five  cow- 
punchers,  sensing  the  unusual,  lined  up  along  the 
sidewalk.  The  marshal  and  his  retainers  halted 
in  the  middle  of  the  street.  Their  hands  were 
held  well  away  from  their  gun-butts. 

"  Yuh  seem  to  h'-^e  found  friends,"  the  mar- 
shal said  harshly;  "but  lemme  tell  you  two  gents, 
it  won't  do  yuh  a  bit  o'  good.  Nobody  can  run 
any  blazers  in  this  town  an'  get  away  with  it. 
Where  djuh  get  that  boss?  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      257 

"Which  one?"  Gilmore  drawled  in  a  gentle 
tone. 

"  The  Barred  O  cayuse." 

"Oh,  shore,  the  Barred  O!  That  would  be 
the  one  yuh'd  want  to  know  about,  wouldn't  it? 
Well,  I'll  tell  yuh — I  got  that  boss  from  a  rustler 
down  on  the  Barred  O  range.  He  shot  my  pony, 
the  rustler  did,  so  I  downed  him,,  and  took  his 
boss.  Yuh  can't  ask  for  nothin'  fairer'n  that, 
can  yuh? " 

The  marshal  blinked.  The  situation  was  un- 
usual, and  he  seemed  to  find  it  difficult  to  collect 
his  wits. 

"  Do  yuh  admit  killin'  the  puncher? "  he 
blurted  finally. 

"  Rustler,  fellah,  rustler,"  was  the  soft-voiced 
correction.  "  Just  one  o'  the  rustlers  o'  the 
Barred  O  ranch,  that's  all.  We're  a-goin'  up 
there  now,  my  friends  here  an'  I — yeah,  all  those 
fellahs  yuh  see  on  the  sidewalk — an'  we're  a-goin' 
to  ask  Mr.  Jim  Mack  a  few  questions.  Then 
we're  a-goin'  to  stretch  Jim  Mack  an'  his  men. 
Yuh  see,  those  Barred  O  cows  were  all  rustled 
from  the  Lazy  D,  over  beyond  the  War  Ax.  If 
you  prairie-dogs  weren't  blind  as  bats,  yuh'd 
'a'  seen  it.  Djever  see  the  Barred  O  brand  on  a 
cow?  'Tain't  any  thin'  like  the  brand  on  this  here 
cayuse.  This  boss  brand  is  cle ar  enough,  but  the 
cow  brand  is  rough-lookin',  £3?  a  little  flat  on  the 
sides,  an'  about  twice  as  big  as  it  ought  to  be. 
Two  year  ago  Jim  Mack  started  the  Barred  O 
with  twenty  cows  an'  eighteen  steers,  an'  now 


258      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

he's  got  six  or  seven  hundred  head.  There's  an 
increase  for  yuh  that'll  stand  lookin'  into;  an* 
we're  a-goin'  to  do  it,  an'  nobody's  goin'  to  stop 
us,  either! " 

"  Who  are  yuh,  friend? "  demanded  the 
marshal. 

"  Dal  Gilmore,  an'  my  main  business  in  life  is 
the  ropin'  of  rustlin',  so  now  yuh  know.  Better 
not  start  anythin',  marshal!  There's  twenty- 
seven  of  us  here,  an'  even  if  the  whole  town  chips 
in  it  won't  help  you  an'  yore  three  friends  any. 
But  I'm  always  willin'  to  help  folks  out.  If  you 
ain't  satisfied,  marshal,  s'pose  you  trail  along 
with  us  when  we  go  after  Mack,  an'  find  out  for 
yoreself.  We're  a-goin'  this  mornin'.  Take  as 
many  friends  as  yuh  like — we  don't  care." 

*  You  needn't  go  after  Jim  Mack — he's  right 
here  in  town,"  the  marshal  announced  with  a  grim 
smile.  "  He's  down  at  the  other  hotel,  him  an' 
two  of  his  men.  I  sent  a  man  for  him  just  as 
soon  as  I  seen  you  fellers." 

Gilmore's  gun  was  out  in  a  flash. 

'  'Nds  up !  "  he  snapped.  "  Not  a  move  out 
o'  yuh!  You  sport  with  the  black  hair,  don't  try 
to  slide  over  behind  the  marshal !  That's  it,  stay 
right  in  sight.  Yuh  say  Jim  Mack  an'  two  of  his 
men  are  here.  Where's  the  rest  of  the  posse?  " 

"  The  other  nine  went  back  to  Sandy  River 
last  night,"  was  the  sulky  reply. 

"  Oh,  they  did,  huh?  All  right,  we're  a-goin' 
down  to  the  hotel  to  see  Jim  Mack,  an'  yo're 
a-goin'  with  us — in  front !  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      259 

But  when  they  had  surrounded  the  hotel,  and 
Gilmore  and  Jimmy  and  a  few  others  had  entered 
and  searched  the  building,  they  were  reluctantly 
forced  to  believe  the  landlord's  statement  that 
Mack  and  his  two  men,  after  viewing  through  a 
window  the  enthusiastic  reception  accorded  Gil- 
more  and  Jimmy  in  front  of  the  other  hotel,  had 
hastily  departed  corralward  by  way  of  the  back 
door. 

"An'  the  way  they  lit  out  o'  that  corral  wasn't 
a  bit  slow,"  the  landlord  said  in  conclusion. 

*  We're  gonna  trail  those  gents,"  Gilmore  told 
the  marshal,  "  an'  I  don't  care  whether  yuh  like 
it  or  not.     They  got  away  'cause  I  spent  too 
much  time  explainin'  things  to  you.     Now  do  we 
go  peaceable,  an'  will  yuh  give  me  yore  word  not 
to  bother  us? " 

"  Yuh've  done  held  me  up "  began  the 

marshal. 

"  Yo're  lucky  to  be  able  to  say  so,"  drawled 
Gilmore.  "  What's  the  answer?  " 

"  They's  somethin'  funny  about  all  this  here," 
grumbled  the  marshal. 

He  and  his  three  companions  had  been  relieved 
of  their  guns,  and  their  tempers  were  ruffled  in 
consequence.  To  make  matters  worse,  the  whole 
town  was  looking  on. 

*  Yuh  can  just  bet  there  is,"  Gilmore  agreed, 
"  but  yo're  too  dumb  to  see  it.     Quick  now — 
speak  up ! " 

The  marshal  gave  a  surly  promise  for  the  good 
behavior  of  himself  and  the  town,  and  the  six- 


260      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

shooters  were  returned.  Inside  of  fifteen 
minutes  the  twenty-seven  were  riding  out  of 
Ringwood  on  the  trail  of  Jim  Mack  and  his  two 
companions — which  trail  led  them  westward. 

They  rode  without  a  word,  as  befitted  men 
about  to  visit  vengeance  on  the  evil-doer.  They 
also  rode  in  a  manner  calculated  to  ease  their 
mounts  as  much  as  possible.  Where  the  trail  of 
the  three  forded  a  small  stream,  they  halted  to 
water  the  horses.  Gilmore  eyed  the  opposite 
bank,  its  shelving  slope  marred  by  deeply  cut 
hoof -marks. 

"They  ain't  far  ahead  of  us,"  Jimmy  remarked. 

'*  They're  close,"  asserted  Gilmore,  splashing 
across  and  leaning  down  from  his  saddle. 
"  Here's  one  mark  just  fillin'  up  with  water." 

This  bit  of  information  set  the  posse  in  instant 
motion.  Within  the  hour  they  sighted  the  fugi- 
tives a  mile  ahead.  The  three  must  have  been 
riding  chin  on  shoulder,  for  they  immediately 
separated  and  galloped  in  different  directions. 

"  We'll  keep  after  the  middle  one! "  Gilmore 
shouted  above  the  rolling  thunder  of  the 
hoofs. 

They  kept  after  the  middle  one — tight  after 
him.  By  the  time  the  scattered  buildings  of 
Sandy  River  came  in  sight,  the  range  had  been 
reduced  to  four  hundred  yards,  and  the  pursued 
was  turning  about  in  the  saddle  and  firing  rear- 
ward with  a  rifle.  Good  marksmanship  under 
such  conditions  is  impossible.  Gilmore,  Jimmy, 
Big  Art,  and  Dakota  bent  low  over  their  saddle- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D       261 

horns  and  encouraged  their  weary  ponies  with 
quirt  and  spur. 

These  four  men,  owing  to  the  superior  quality 
of  their  horse-flesh,  were  far  ahead  of  the  other 
members  of  the  posse,  who  were  strung  along  the 
back  trail  at  all  distances  up  to  five  miles. 

"  If  he  gets  in  among  the  houses,  it'll  be  a  hard 
job  to  pry  him  out!"  yelled  Gilmore.  "Pull 
wide  o'  me !  I'm  a-goin'  to  try  a  shot !  " 

Gilmore  drew  out  the  Winchester  from  under 
his  right  leg  and  dragged  his  horse  back  on  its 
haunches.  He  swung  from  the  back  of  the 
sliding,  stiff-legged  brute,  ran  forward  a  few 
steps  to  get  out  of  the  dust,  and  dropped  on  one 
knee.  The  rifle  cracked.  At  the  report  the 
fugitive's  horse  collapsed  in  the  middle  of  a  leap. 
The  animal  fairly  stood  on  its  head,  flinging  the 
rider  a  good  twenty  feet  before  crashing  over  on 
its  back. 

Gilmore  caught  up  his  reins,  mounted,  and 
galloped  to  where  Jimmy,  Big  Art,  and  Dakota 
were  already  grouped  round  the  fallen  man. 

"  Head  hit  kind  o'  hard,"  observed  Big  Art. 
"  Outside  o'  that,  he's  good  as  new." 

'  It's  Mack,  Dal,"  Jimmy  said  quietly. 

Gilmore  nodded  with  satisfaction.  "  I  was 
thinkin'  he  might  be  the  one  in  the  middle! " 

They  all  dismounted  and  squatted  down  on 
their  heels  to  await  the  unconscious  man's  re- 
covery of  his  senses.  The  sweating,  dust- 
streaked  horses  stood  with  drooping  heads. 
They  had  a  right  to  be  tired.  The  thirty  miles 


262      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

between  Ringwood  and  Sandy  River  had  been 
covered  in  better  than  three  hours. 

"  Here  comes  Long  Jack  an'  the  Kid,"  re- 
marked Gilmore,  squinting  along  the  back  trail 
at  two  madly  quirting  horsemen. 

Long  Jack,  a  snub-nosed  puncher,  and  the 
Kid,  a  youngster  of  eighteen,  rode  up  as  Mack 
opened  his  eyes. 

"  No  use  feelin'  for  yore  gun,"  drawled  Gil- 
more.  *  Y'  ain't  got  it." 

Mack  made  a  sound  deep  in  his  throat.  His 
eyes  shifted. 

'  Fellah,"  went  on  Gilmore  dispassionately, 
"  yo're  caught.  Yo're  due  to  be  stretched,  like 
any  other  rustler;  but  I  know  yuh  ain't  alone  in 
this  deal.  Tell  me  who's  behind  yuh,  an'  yo're 
free  to  hop  the  next  freight." 

"Yuh  got  me  all  right.  Hang  an'  be  damned!" 
The  words  were  brave  enough,  but  the  voice  was 
not  quite  steady. 

"  Yuh  see,"  drawled  Gilmore,  "  yore  friends 
have  deserted  yuh.  To  save  their  skins  they'll 
put  it  all  on  you.  They  will,  certain  shore,  when 
they  know  yo're  too  dead  to  mind  it.  But  yuh 
don't  have  to  die,  Mack.  No,  sir,  yuh  can 
scamper  aboard  the  next  freight,  just  like  I  say, 
an'  away  yuh'll  go  free  an'  foot-loose.  O'  course 
yuh  can't  ever  come  back,  but  I  guess  yuh  won't 
want  to.  There's  nothin'  funny  about  bein' 
stretched,  Mack.  It  hurts  some,  an'  it  hurts 
worse  if  the  knot  slips.  Yuh've  seen  men  hung, 
I  take  it.  'Member  how  they  kicked?  " 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      263 

Evidently  Mack  had  seen  the  supreme  punish- 
ment administered,  for  he  squirmed.  The  mus- 
cles in  his  cheeks  bulged.  He  was  gritting  his 
teeth  in  a  tremendous  effort  to  keep  his  nerve 
and  his  counsel. 

"  Sometimes  it  takes  as  much  as  five  minutes 
for  a  man  to  cash,"  the  inexorable  voice  con- 
tinued. "An'  sometimes  he  gets  his  hands  loose 
an'  grabs  the  rope  over  his  head,  an'  yuh've  got  to 
do  the  business  all  over  again.  It  ain't  pleasant. 
Are  yuh  goin'  to  make  it  hard  for  us,  Mack? 
Are  yuh? " 

Mack  dragged  himself  to  a  sitting  position. 
His  hands  were  trembling.  His  eyes  refused  to 
meet  squarely  the  eyes  of  his  captors. 

'  Yuh  ain't  got  no  evidence,"  he  whispered 
with  dry  lips. 

"  No?  Long  Jack,  yore  rope  looks  to  be 
nearly  new.  Unstrap  her,  will  yuh?  One  o' 
those  cottonwoods  down  by  the  river'll  do,  I 
guess.  Come  on,  Mack — get  on  yore  feet!  " 

Mack  jerked  his  shoulder  to  shake  off  the  hand 
laid  upon  it. 

"  I'll  tell  yuh,"  he  breathed  hoarsely.  "  Yuh'll 
give  me  yore  word  to  let  me  go,  won't  yuh?  " 

1  Yuh  have  it,"  Gilmore  replied  simply. 

"  Jack  Shaw,  of  the  V  Up-an'-Down,  is  the 
boss  of  this  show,"  said  Mack.  "  'Twas  him  an' 
his  men  rustled  the  cows  from  the  Lazy  D  an' 
Triangle  O  an'  drifted  'em  north  to  us." 

*  Where'd  yuh  rebrand  'em?  " 

"  We  didn't  rebrand  'em  at  all — not  here,  that 


264      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

is.  Jack  Shaw's  boys  'd  do  it  right  after  they 
rustled  'em.  By  the  time  the  cows  'd  get  to  me 
the  brands  'd  be  'most  healed  up." 

"  We  found  some  a  while  ago  that  weren't 
healed  .up.  They  were  Barred  O  an'  Barred 
Diamond  Eight — eight  of  'em,  steers  an'  cows." 

"  I  shore  forgot  them.  They  was  overlooked 
by  the  V  Up-an'-Downers,  an'  we  had  to  brand 
'em  ourselves.  I  was  kind  o'  scared  somebody'd 
notice  it,  an'  I  was  a'most  minded  to  kill  'em  for 
beef.  Wishtlhad!" 

Mack's  thin  upper  lip  lifted  in  a  sneer.  Under 
the  promise  of  immunity  his  fear  was  disappear- 
ing and  his  habitual  sulky  surliness  was  taking 
its  place. 

"  Yo're  shore  nobody  but  the  V  Up-an'-Down 
outfit  was  in  this  rustlin'  from  the  Lazy  D? " 

"  I'd  ought  to  be  shore.  I  tell  yuh  nobody 
but  my  outfit  an'  the  V  Up-an'-Down  are  in  on 
this  deal  here.  O'  course  old  Alec  Stuart  done 
some  brand-blottin'  on  the  Lazy  D  cows,  but  he 
kept  all  he  rustled  on  his  own  range.  Aw,  what's 
the  difference?  Every  ranch  in  Glenn  County 
is  rustlin'  from  the  next  one.  It's  a  fair  enough 
game.  The  losers  are  the  boys  who  get  beefed, 
an'  they're  paid  for  that,  so  there  y'  are!  " 

"  I  reckon  yore  usefulness  here  is  about  over," 
snapped  Gilmore.  "  Get  up !  " 

"  Say,  yuh  promised  yuh  wouldn't  hang  me!  " 
Mack  cried  in  alarm. 

"  No  more  we  will,  yuh  poor  fool,"  was  the  re- 
assuring answer.  "  We're  a-goin'  to  take  yuh  to 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      265 

the  railroad-station  an'  see  yuh  off  on  the  next 
freight." 

Passing  through  Sandy  River  they  were  met 
by  the  other  members  of  the  marshal's  posse,  who 
had  ridden  homeward  the  night  before.  These 
men  were  citizens  of  Sandy  River,  and,  while  not 
openly  hostile,  it  was  obvious  that  they  were 
grimly  determined  to  arrive  at  the  true  inward- 
ness of  matters. 

When  Gilmore  had  explained  the  affair,  and 
Mack  had  brazenly  corroborated  his  statement, 
the  Sandy  River  men  called  loudly  for  the  rope. 
They  had  been  fooled;  badly  fooled,  and  the 
lynching  of  Mack  would  at  least  partly  restore 
their  self-respect.  Gilmore,  however,  explained 
quite  frankly  that  Mack  was  to  take  the  next 
train,  and  that  any  attempt  at  violence  would 
meet  with  disaster. 

;<  I  gave  him  my  word,"  he  told  his  hearers. 
*  Yuh  can  easy  see  how  it  is." 

They  saw,  and  their  spirits  fell  accordingly, 
but  they  brightened  again  when  a  thoughtful 
soul  among  them  suggested  that  they  might  ride 
out  to  the  Barred  O  and  call  upon  the  solitary 
puncher  left  in  charge. 

'  That's  a  good  idea,"  said  Gilmore.  "  If  one 
or  two  o'  yuh  could  sort  o'  look  after  the  Barred  O 
till  this  cat-hop's  settled,  we'd  take  it  kindly." 

They  assured  him  earnestly  that  they  would, 
these  whole-souled  Sandy  River  citizens,  and 
hastened  to  the  corrals.  Gilmore  and  his  men 
went  on  to  the  station. 


266      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

An  hour  later  a  west-bound  freight,  pulling 
in,  had  not  clanked  to  a  stop  before  Jim  Mack 
was  hastily  scrambling  up  the  caboose  steps. 

"An*  that's  the  last  o'  him! "  observed  Jimmy 
cheerfully,  as  the  long  train  drew  away  from  the 
station. 

"  It  is  for  us,"  Gilmore  returned  without  ex- 
ultation. "Let's  be  movin',  boys.  As  it  is,  I 
dunno  but  what  those  two  rustlers'll  get  to  Plain 
Edge  ahead  of  us." 

Gilmore  was  now  in  a  fair  way  to  accomplish 
his  mission,  but  the  knowledge  did  not  bring  con- 
tentment. He  did  not  see  how,  in  all  fairness  to 
the  other  rustlers,  the  shooting  or  hanging  of 
Alec  Stuart  and  his  six  sons  could  well  be 
avoided;  and  Louise  Stuart  could  not  be  expected 
to  view  with  equanimity  either  their  elimination 
or  their  eliminator. 

Yet  Gilmore  was  not  in  the  least  disposed  to 
turn  back.  He  had  started  the  business,  and  of 
necessity  he  must  see  it  through.  His  creed 
would  allow  of  no  other  procedure.  His  heart 
was  very  sore  as  he  and  his  men  journeyed  to 
Plain  Edge.  Truly,  there  are  times  when  the 
way  of  the  reformer  rivals  in  rocky  hardness  that 
of  the  transgressor. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THEY  struck  the  trail  from  Warrior's  Mark 
to  Plain  Edge  half-way  between  the  two  towns, 
and  turned  into  it.  Within  ten  miles  of  Plain 
Edge  they  met  the  Fort  Henderson  ambulance 
up  to  its  wagon-box  in  the  quicksand  of  Tom's 
Creek. 

"  Yuh'd  ought  to  'a'  hung  to  the  ford,"  called 
Gilmore,  and  unstrapped  his  rope. 

"  The  dam'  mules  ran  away,"  was  the  driver's 
sufficient  explanation. 

With  five  ropes  to  a  wheel,  and  seven  on  the 
tongue,  the  ambulance  squashed  out  of  the  quick- 
sand and  lurched  up  on  dry  ground. 

"  We're  shore  obliged  to  yuh,"  the  driver  said, 
on  behalf  of  himself  and  the  two  dripping  and 
muddied  troopers.  "  Goin'  to  the  trial? " 

"What  trial?"  Gilmore  inquired,  and  picked 
up  his  reins. 

"  Why,  the  trial  o'  Smoky  Nivette,  in  Plain 
Edge.  We'd  'a'  stayed,  only  we  had  to  get  back 
quick  an'  right  away  with  the  colonel's  express 
packages.  Great  man  for  express  packages,  the 
colonel  is,  an'  he's  always  fuller'n  a  goat  the  next 
day.  I  dunno " 


268      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Djuh  say  Smoky  Nivette  was  bein'  tried  in 
Plain  Edge? "  interrupted  Gilmore,  the  others 
crowding  closer. 

"  Shore,  for  the  murder  o'  Red  Hall.  It's  a 
shame,  too.  He  didn't  kill  Hall  no  more'n  I  did. 
Red  was  dropped  in  a  fair  fight;  but  them 
V  Up-an'-Downers  an'  the  Hash  Knife,  they 
kind  o'  make  the  law  up  thisaway." 

"Are  both  outfits  in  town? "  The  calm  tone 
was  no  gauge  of  Gilmore' s  seething  anger. 

"  Shore,  they're  both  in  town,  'ceptin'  Stuart 
an'  his  boys." 

Gilmore  did  not  grasp  the  full  significance  of 
the  latter  part  of  the  sentence,  for  his  brain  was 
busy  with  the  possibilities  embodied  in  the  first 
part  of  it.  Waving  his  men  to  follow,  he  spurred 
into  the  water.  On  the  opposite  bank  he  checked 
his  horse. 

"  Boys,  she's  come  to  a  show-down  quicker'n 
I  thought,"  he  said  to  the  eager-faced  crowd  sur- 
rounding him.  "  One  o'  my  friends,  if  that  mule- 
skinner  told  the  truth,  is  due  to  be  lynched.  I 
dunno  the  rights  of  it,  but  I  know  Nivette.  If 
he  killed  anybody,  it  was  because  he  was  crowded, 
an'  the  other  fellah  got  an  even  break  all  right. 
Anyhow,  he  didn't  down  Hall.  We've  got  to 
stop  this  lynchin'.  Seein'  that  the  V  Up-an'- 
Down's  in  town,  it'll  be  a  large  order.  It's  just 
possible  somebody  else  might  like  to  help  fill  it. 
Jimmy,  s'pose  you  an'  the  Kid  drag  it  for  the 
Mark,  an'  tell  Doheny  an'  the  rest  o'  the  bunch 
what  the  driver  told  us.  Tell  him  right  now 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      269 

ought  to  be  as  good  a  time  as  any  for  them  to 
play  even  for  gettin'  their  jail  burned." 

"  Send  Big  Art  an'  the  Kid,"  Jimmy  pro- 
tested. "  I  don't  want  to  go  to  the  Mark." 

"  Oh,  shore,  send  me !  "  bawled  the  indignant 
Kid.  "  Just  'cause  I  ain't  as  old  as  the  rest  o' 
you  gran'pops,  yuh  think  I  got  to  do  all  the  dirty 
work,  an'  let  the  rest  o'  yuh  have  all  the  fun. 
Send " 

"  Shut  up !  "  ordered  Gilmore.  "  You  prairie- 
dogs  don't  seem  to  realize  that  while  yo're  belly- 
achin'  round  Smoky  Nivette  is  liable  to  swing. 
Jimmy,  you  an'  the  Kid  do  as  I  say.  A  mile  east 

yuh'll  come  to  a  dry  wash Here,  anybody 

got  a  pencil  an'  a  piece  o'  paper?  Old  envelope's 
all  right.  That's  it!  Crowd  over  here,  Jimmy, 
an'  I'll  explain  this  short  cut  over  Packsaddle 
Mountain  while  I'm  drawin'  a  map  for  yuh." 

Five  minutes  later  Jimmy  and  the  l£id  were 
heading  toward  Warrior's  Mark,  while  the  others 
were  riding  hard  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  They'll  shore  hurry,"  observed  Dakota, 
spurring  up  beside  his  chief. 

"  Y'betcha,"  replied  Gilmore.  "An'  yuh  can 
gamble  that  Mark  outfit'll  come  back  with  'em." 

The  long  hitching-rail  in  front  of  the  log-and- 
frame  court-house  in  Plain  Edge  held  a  kaleido- 
scopic double  fringe  of  switching,  stamping  cow- 
ponies.  These  nervous  brutes  were  the  only 
visible  signs  of  life  when  Gilmore  and  his  men 
rode  in.  Dismounting  in  the  rear  of  Shorty 


270      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Damman's  hotel,  they  tied  their  mounts  to  the 
corral  stockade  and  proceeded  on  foot  to  the 
court-house,  within  which  building,  to  judge  by 
the  babel  of  voices,  a  hot  argument  was  in 
progress. 

Gilmore  jerked  out  his  gun  and  walked  briskly 
through  the  doorway,  his  men  crowding  at  his 
heels.  As  by  magic  the  clamor  hushed.  Every 
face  was  turned  toward  Gilmore.  In  the  dead 
silence  the  inadvertent  scrape  of  a  boot-sole 
jarred  intolerably. 

Smiling  his  fixed,  peculiar  smile,  Gilmore 
gazed  round  the  court-room.  He  noted  the 
position  of  Jack  Shaw  and  Slim  Dennison,  who 
sat  side  by  side  close  to  the  jury-box.  He  saw 
that  Shorty  Damman  and  several  of  his  friends, 
all  heavily  armed,  were  sitting  on  the  bench 
nearest  the  handcuffed  half-breed.  Gilmore's 
smile  became  more  fixed,  and,  if  anything,  a 
trifle  more  peculiar. 

"  Howdy,  Smoky? "  he  drawled,  when  the 
silence  had  become  almost  unbearable.  *  Were 
you  needin'  any  help?  " 

"  Not  now,  by  gar! "  grinned  Smoky. 

The  blear-eyed,  trembling  judge  cleared  his 
throat.  He  beckoned  to  two  men  wearing 
deputies'  stars. 

"  Clear  the  court-room!"  said  Judge  Trivvy. 

The  two  looked  at  Gilmore  and  his  twenty- 
four  men,  now  occupying  strategic  positions 
along  the  wall.  The  deputies  did  not  move  to 
obey  the  judge's  order.  Gilmore  laughed. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      271 

"  I  guess,  yore  honor,"  he  remarked,  "  this 
court  will  stay  the  way  she  is.  An'  Mr.  Shaw 
an*  Mr.  Dennison  will  stay  the  way  they  are. 
An'  so  will  their  outfit.  Quit  it,  you  fellah  in  the 
red  shirt !  It  ain't  necessary  for  yuh  to  get  up. 
If  yo're  thirsty,  yuh  can  wait  till  the  session's 
over  with.  Try  an'  sit  still.  Remember,  this  is 
goin'  to  be  strictly  legal.  I  ain't  a  deputy  any 
more,  so  there's  nothin'  official  about  this  mornin' 
call.  We're  here  as  visitors,  nothin'  more'n  that, 
but  I  can't  say  what'll  happen  if  any  misguided 
sport  goes  after  his  hardware.  I  mean  you,, 
Shaw,  an'  you,  Slim!  You  two  will  be  downed 
first  pop,  to  say  nothin'  o'  quite  a  jag  o'  fellahs 
sittin'  on  these  back  benches.  Shore,  I  know 
there's  forty  or  fifty  o'  yuh,  corral  count,  an'  yuh 
may  rub  us  out  in  the  end,  but  there  won't  be 
many  o'  yuh  left  alive  to  celebrate! " 

At  this  point  a  woman  who  had  been  sitting 
on  one  of  the  front  benches  rose  and  rushed  up 
the  aisle.  It  was  Mrs.  Kyle. 

"  Don't  let  them  hang  him!  "  she  cried,  clutch- 
ing Gilmore's  sleeve.  "  They  wouldn't  take  my 
testimony.  I  came  here  to  tell  them  that  Smoky 
Nivette  was  in  Virgin  City  the  time  Red  Hall 
was  killed.  Anyway,  everybody  knows  Hall  was 
killed  in  the  fight  at  the  Mark.  The  charge 
against  Smoky  is  perfectly  ridiculous.  They 
want  to  hang  him,  that's  all!  They  wouldn't 
even  listen  to  Mr.  Damman." 

"  Don't  you  fret,"  comforted  Gilmore,  patting 
her  on  the  shoulder.  "  There's  goin'  to  be  a 


272      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

whole  heap  o'  listenin'  done  from  now  on.  You 
better  go  back  to  yore  seat  now.  Yore  honor, 
the  jury  has  not  gone  out.  Yuh  haven't  charged 
'eni  yet,  have  yuh?  " 

Judge  Trivvy  was  unable  to  articulate,  but  he 
managed  to  answer  with  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  I'm  glad  o'  that,"  Gilmore  said  gravely. 
"  S'pose  we  all  listen  to  what  Mr.  Damman  has 
to  say,  if  the  district  attorney  has  no  objection." 

The  red-nosed  district  attorney  had  no  objec- 
tion. At  any  rate  he  uttered  none,  for  he  seemed 
to  be  as  fear-stricken  as  the  judge. 

Shorty  Damman  got  on  his  feet.  In  the 
hollow  of  his  right  arm  he  held  a  double-barreled 
sawed-off  Greener. 

"  I  want  to  say,"  declared  the  wispy  one,  slid- 
ing his  chew  into  the  corner  of  his  cheek,  "  I  want 
to  say  what  I  been  try  in'  to  say  all  mornin'.  I 
know  Smoky  didn't  shoot  Red  Hall,  an'  nobody 
knows  it  any  better'n  that  crowd  that  went  to  the 
Mark  an'  burned  the  calaboose.  Yuh  might  as 
well  accuse  Smoky  o'  downin'  Abe  Lincoln,  an' 
be  done  with  it.  This  here  is  a  short-card  game, 
an'  you  fellers  know  mighty  well  it  is.  An'  I 
want  to  say  right  now  what  I've  said  before— 
that  me  an'  my  friends  come  here  this  mornin'  to 
see  justice  done,  an'  we're  a-goin'  to  see  it  done, 
or  this  session  o'  the  Glenn  County  court  will 
wind  up  in  the  smoke!  " 

"  Hooray!  "  incautiously  bawled  Big  Art,  and 
immediately,  with  great  presence  of  mind,  or- 
dered Dakota  to  keep  quiet. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      273 

Gilmore  stilled  the  momentary  ^  flurry  among 
his  followers,  and  turned  to  the  judge. 

"  Yore  honor  an'  the  jury,"  he  drawled, 
"  yuh've  heard  what  Mr.  Damman  had  to  say. 
S'pose  we  listen  to  the  testimony  o'  Mrs.  Kyle. 
I  know  yuh've  all  heard  it  once,  but  maybe  yuh 
weren't  listenin'  real  hard  the  first  time.  Gettin' 
nervous,  Dennison?  Yore  friend,  Tim  Simms, 
knows  what  happens  to  nervous  folks.  Has  the 
end  o'  his  thumb  grown  back  on  again?  All 
right,  Mr.  Attorney,  call  the  witness  when  yo're 
ready.  What?  There  ain't  any  lawyer  for  the 
defendant?  This  don't  look  legal  a  little  bit! 
Yore  honor,  yuh've  overlooked  a  bet.  I'd  ap- 
point a  lawyer,  if  I  were  you." 

The  judge  rose  to  the  occasion  sufficiently  to 
assign  a  lawyer  to  the  accused.  The  designated 
counsel,  who  hated  the  district  attorney,  promptly 
called  his  witness.  Mrs.  Kyle  testified  in  a  clear 
voice  that  on  the  day  Red  Hall  was  shot  Smoky 
Nivette  spent  the  time  from  6:  30  p.  M  to  1  A.  M. 
playing  cards  in  her  saloon.  At  the  conclusion  of 
Mrs.  Kyle's  testimony  the  defense  rested  its  case. 

The  district  attorney  and  Judge  Triwy  were 
at  their  wit's  end.  The  looks  that  Shaw  and 
Dennison  bent  upon  them  were  shriveling  their 
lickspittle  souls.  Nor  did  they  find  inspiration 
in  Gilmore's  set  smile.  They  feared  for  their 
currish  lives,  these  two  men  of  law;  and  they  had 
reason. 

"  Speak  up,  Mr.  District  Attorney,"  urged 
Gilmore.  "  The  jury's  gettin'  tired  waitin'." 


274     The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

The  jury,  composed  wholly  of  V  Up-and- 
Down  adherents,  did  not  look  in  the  least  weary. 
On  the  contrary,  its  twelve  members  appeared  as 
alert  as  so  many  weasels.  This  may  have  been 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  jury-box  was  so  situated 
that,  should  hostilities  occur,  the  bullets  missing 
Shaw  and  Dennison  would  inevitably  find  lodg- 
ment among  the  jurors. 

The  district  attorney  stood  up.  He  swayed 
on  his  feet,  striving  manfully  to  speak,  but  he 
was  past  speech.  He  could  only  guggle.  He 
sat  down. 

"  There,  now,  that's  what  I  call  a  right  sensible 
oration!"  Gilmore  declared  admiringly.  "He 
didn't  say  a  word  too  much — not  a  word.  Yore 
honor,  ain't  it  about  time  to  charge  the  jury? 
Shaw,  sit  still! " 

*  This — this  is  coercion!"  bleated  Judge 
Trivvy. 

"  Don't  mind  'em,"  warmly  advised  Gilmore. 

'  We're  here  to  see  fair  play,  old-timer ;  so  you 

go  ahead  an'  do  the  right  thing,  an'  they  will,  an' 

we  will.     What  more  do  yuh  want?     Fly  at 

it!" 

Wretched  Judge  Trivvy,  fear  clutching  his 
nut-gall  of  a  heart,  charged  the  jury  in  a  voice 
so  low  and  wavering  that  Gilmore  was  compelled 
more  than  once  to  request  him  to  speak  louder. 
Gilmore  found  no  fault  with  the  charge.  It  was 
eminently  fair-minded.  But  when  the  jury  rose 
to  file  out  for  their  deliberations  Gilmore  offered 
decided  objection.  He  did  not  trust  those  jurors. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      275 

They  appeared  to  be  capable  of  almost  any  act 
of  treachery. 

"  But  a  jury  al'ays  wrastles  it  out  in  private," 
protested  the  foreman. 

"  Yuh  can  be  as  private  as  yuh  like  behind  that 
rail,"  Gilmore  informed  him.  "  Lemme  tell  yuh 
plain,  fellah,  what  I  said  to  the  spectators  goes 
for  the  jury.  No  gent  leaves  this  room  till  I 
say  so,  'ceptin'  he  leaves  feet  first!  " 

The  jury  looked  helplessly  at  Shaw  and  Den- 
nison.  The  harried  pair  returned  the  look  as 
helplessly.  The  jurors  debated  not  a  great  while. 
They  cast  their  ballots  in  the  foreman's  hat.  As 
might  have  been  expected,  the  verdict  was  "  Not 
guilty." 

When  Smoky  Nivette  had  been  released,  and 
his  weapons  returned  by  the  deputies,  the  V  Up- 
and-Down  and  their  Plain  Edge  friends  arose 
and  pushed  for  the  door. 

"I  haven't  given  the  word  yet!"  cried  Gil- 
more.  "  Before  yuh  go  out  I  got  somethin'  to 
say." 

The  crowd  halted. 

"  See  here,"  shouted  Shaw,  shoving  his  way  to 
the  front,  "  yuh  can't  keep  us  here  forever ! 
We " 

"  Close  yore  face,"  interrupted  Gilmore,  "  an' 
keep  yore  Bands  away  from  yore  belt.  You  an' 
yore  boys'll  be  free  as  air  in  less  time  than  it  takes 
to  saddle  a  hoss,  but  now  yuh  got  to  listen.  Yore 
bein'  in  front  o'  me  thisaway  makes  it  easier  for 
me  to  speak  my  little  piece.  I  shore  do  hate  to 


276      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

talk  about  a  gent  when  he's  hidin'  behind  a  lot  o' 
other  men! " 

Shaw's  lips  paled,  and  his  fingers  twitched,  but 
he  refrained  from  going  after  his  gun. 

Gilmore  never  took  his  eyes  from  Shaw's 
reptilian  countenance.  He  realized  that  never, 
from  the  time  of  his  entry  into  the  court-room  till 
now,  had  the  moment  been  so  tense,  so  fraught 
with  hair-hung  sudden  death. 

"  Remember,  you  tin-horns  in  the  back,"  Gil- 
more  reminded  them,  "  that  yore  friends  here  in 
front  will  shorely  be  among  the  missin'  if  just 
only  one  o'  you  fires  a  shot.  An'  another  thing 
yuh've  maybe  forgot:  Shorty  Damman  an'  his 
friends  are  behind  yuh,  an'  Smoky  Nivette  has 
his  guns  back!" 

The  hostile  crowd,  still  outnumbering  the  com- 
bined forces  of  Gilmore  and  Shorty  Damman, 
yet  barkened  to  the  speaker's  combined  impu- 
dence and  common  sense,  and  stifled  its  seething 
emotion.  Decidedly,  the  hour  was  Gilmore's. 

"  Yuh  was  goin'  to  say  somethin',"  Shaw  ex- 
claimed feverishly.  "  Spit  it  out! " 

"  Sorry  to  keep  yore  highness  waitin',"  drawled 
Gilmore.  "  I  just  wanted  to  tell  yuh  that  yo're 
a  hoss-thief  an'  a  rustler,  an'  y'  ain't  fit  to  eat 
with  a  sheepman." 

"  Yo're  a  liar ! "  cried  Shaw,  his  hand  dropping. 

"  Put  'em  up ! "  flashed  Gilmore,  instantly 
shoving  his  gun  into  Shaw's  abdomen.  "  Don't 
yuh  know  any  better'n  to  try  to  pull  a  gun  on 
me?" 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      277 

Slowly  Shaw's  fingers  uncurled  from  the  butt 
of  his  six-shooter,  and  slowly  his  arms  went  up 
and  bent  inward  the  edges  of  his  hat. 

"  Yo're  shore  one  leisurely  gent,"  was  Gil- 
more's  dry  comment.  "  Lucky  for  you  I  got  a 
whole  lot  o'  patience.  What  do  yuh  say,  Shaw, 
to  you  an'  me  an'  yore  dear  friend  an'  foreman, 
Slim  Dennison,  goin'  into  the  street  an'  shootin' 
it  out?  Bein'  the  better  man  myself,  it's  only 
fair  to  make  it  two  to  one." 

"  Yo're  on!  "  barked  Slim  Dennison  from  far 
back  in  the  crowd. 

Shaw  nodded  evilly. 

"I'll  go  yuh,  Gilmore.  This  Territory  is 
shore  too  small  for  you  an'  me! " 

"  That's  the  first  sensible  thing  I  ever  heard 
yuh  say.  Got  yore  rifles,  you  an'  Slim?" 

"Rifles?" 

"  Shore,  we'll  settle  our  little  difficulty  with 
rifles,  the  conditions  o'  this  gun-play  bein'  that 
we  all  go  out  into  the  street  together,  each  party 
backs  off  a  hundred  yards,  an'  then  walks  toward 
each  other,  settin'  our  artillery  a-goin'  when- 
ever we  feel  like  it." 

"  I  ain't  got  mine  with  me,"  objected  Shaw. 

"  It's  on  yore  saddle.  Don't  try  to  tell  me  yuh 
come  here  without  it.  Yuh  can  get  it  when  we 
go  outside,  which'll  be  after  I  get  my  Winchester. 
Dakota,  would  yuh  mind  gettin'  my  rifle  for  me? " 

When  Dakota  had  returned  from  the  corral 
with  the  rifle,  Shaw  and  Dennison  flatly  refused 
to  precede  Gilmore  through  the  doorway.  They 


278      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

would  not  go  outside  and  leave  their  men  inside, 
and  that  was  all  there  was  to  it.  In  this  senti- 
ment the  men  loudly  joined. 

Again  the  moment  became  touch-and-go;  but 
it  passed  without  a  break,  and,  following  a  short 
argument,  the  two  recalcitrants  led  the  way  as 
requested.  Gilmore's  friends  were  the  next  to 
leave.  Gilmore  himself  went  out  last. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

As  Gilmore,  in  the  middle  of  the  dusty  street, 
moved  backward,  his  friends  on  the  sidewalk 
naturally  drifted  along  with  him  till  he  stopped 
opposite  Shorty  Damman's  hotel.  Two  himdred 
paces  distant  stood  his  opponents,  but  not  side  by 
side.  Shaw  was  almost  touching  a  large  boulder 
in  front  of  the  express  office,  while  Dennison 
slouched  beside  a  freight-wagon  backed  up  to  the 
opposite  sidewalk.  The  two  men  were  at  least 
thirty  yards  apart. 

Gilmore,  while  fully  expecting  some  wily  and 
guileful  action  on  the  part  of  his  enemies,  had  not 
counted  on  their  separating  in  this  manner.  He 
knew  that  he  had  only  himself  to  blame  for  not 
foreseeing  such  an  obvious  and  logical  move. 
Yet  he  was  not  disheartened,  though  the  odds 
against  him  in  this  desperate  game  were  mani- 
festly heavy. 

He  took  a  step  forward,  his  faculties  in  readi- 
ness for  the  quick  and  fancy  shooting  that  the 
exigencies  of  the  occasion  would  presently  de- 
mand. Shaw  instantly  dropped  behind  the 
boulder,  Dennison  slipped  behind  the  freight- 
wagon.  The  pained  and  amazed  Gilmore 
emptied  his  magazine  into  the  fortifications  of 


280      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

his  now  invisible  enemies  and  ran  for  the  shelter 
of  the  hotel.  He  knew  what  was  coming  next. 

It  was  not  long  in  coming.  Bang,  bang, 
bang!  A  Winchester  cracked  thrice  in  the  door- 
way of  the  court-house,  and  three  bullets  cut  the 
dust  behind  Gilmore's  flying  heels.  He  speeded 
up  and  entered  the  hotel  full  jump,  neck  and 
neck  with  the  proprietor. 

As  a  wet  sponge  in  the  hand  of  the  scholar 
erases  the  pencil-marks  from  the  slate,  so  did 
those  first  three  hysterical  shots  clear  the  main 
street  of  Plain  Edge.  Inside  of  thirty  seconds 
the  town  looked  as  it  had  when  Gilmore  and  his 
men  rode  in.  The  only  living  things  in  sight 
were  the  ponies  in  front  of  the  court-house. 

No  outburst  of  firing  followed  the  three  shots. 
Instead,  a  heavy  silence  hung  over  Plain  Edge. 
The  V  Up-and-Down  forces,  the  sudden  move  of 
their  leaders  taking  them  by  surprise,  had  no 
time  for  concerted  action  before  their  opponents 
were  under  cover,  and  busily  making  good  that 
cover  by  all  the  means  in  their  power. 

The  positions  of  the  rival  bands  were  about 
equal  in  strength.  Gilmore's  men,  together  with 
Shorty  and  his  friends,  held  the  hotel,  three 
corrals,  two  stores,  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  houses 
near  the  hotel.  Across  the  street  were  several 
houses  and  shacks,  the  jail,  and  a  storehouse  be- 
longing to  a  friend  of  Damman's.  Except  the 
storehouse,  they  were  all  poorly  built  and  would 
not  stop  a  questing  bullet. 

Farther  up  the  street,  a  hundred  yards  from 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      281 

the  storehouse,  from  which  it  was  separated  by 
open  ground  and  a  large  corral,  stood  the  court- 
house. Beyond  the  court-house  all  the  shacks 
and  houses — and  there  were  a  round  score  of 
them — were  owned  by  V  Up-and-Down  sympa- 
thizers. 

The  street  itself,  after  the  cheerful  fashion  of 
streets  laid  out  by  men  unhampered  by  strict  re- 
gard for  property  lines,  was  a  wide  one,  but  of 
assorted  widths,  running  from  a  scant  thirty-five 
yards  in  front  of  the  express  office  to  a  long  forty 
between  the  hotel  and  the  storehouse. 

"Le's  go  in  my  store,"  a  friend  of  Shorty 
Damman's  suggested  to  Gilmore,  Smoky  and 
Shorty.  "  She  sticks  out  ten  feet  beyond  the 
front  o'  the  hotel,  an'  there's  a  window  on  the 
side  toward  the  co't-house,  so's  yuh  can  shoot 
straight  out  stead  o'  slanchways." 

Shooting  straight  out  being  preferable  to 
shooting  "  slanchways,"  the  three  followed  the 
storekeeper,  Shorty  Damman  delaying  only  long 
enough  to  exchange  his  short  shotgun  for  a 
sixty-caliber  Sharps. 

"  Shotgun's  all  right  for  close  to,"  observed 
Shorty,  patting  the  stock  of  the  long  eight-square, 
"  but  for  searchin'  out  an'  borin'  through  a  gent 
any  ways  off,  gimme  this  here  buff 'ler  gun !  " 

Besides  its  invaluable  window,  the  store  pos- 
sessed other  attractions,  such  as  heavy  log  walls 
and  a  long  counter.  They  knew  nothing  of  the 
art  of  Vauban,  these  four  Westerners,  yet  in  their 
crude,  uncultured  way  they  contrived  a  more 


282      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

than  passable  traverse  out  of  the  counter  by  pil- 
ing sacks  of  flour  upon  it.  To  the  end  that  the 
whiteness  of  the  sacks  should  not  draw  fire,  they 
covered  them  with  a  tarpaulin. 

"  I  shoot  left-handed,"  announced  Sam,  the 
storekeeper;  "  so  I'll  take  one  of  the  front  win- 
dows." 

"  Dere  ees  a  hole  here  between  de  log  on  de 
corner,"  grinned  Nivette,  lying  down  on  his 
stomach.  "  Un  I  have  one  fine  lookout  at  de 
court-house.  By  gar,  eef  I  can  geet  dat  Shaw 
I  do  not  care  w'at  happen — or  Sleem,  burn  hees 
soul!" 

Nivette  thrust  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  level  with 
the  opening,  his  swarthy  cheek  cuddling  the 
stock.  Gilmore  and  Damman,  at  the  side  win- 
dow, squinted  through  their  sights  and  waited 
patiently.  The  former  seized  the  opportunity 
to  clear  up  a  question  which  had  been  puzzling 
him  for  some  time. 

"  I  don't  see  Enright  around,"  said  he. 

"  He's  been  got,"  explained  Damman. 

"  Who  got  him? " 

"Alec  Stuart  an'  his  boys." 

"  When  did  it  happen?  "  Then,  when  Dam- 
man told  him,  Gilmore  added:  "  Why,  that  was 
the  night  I  hit  town!" 

4  You?" 

"  Shore — I  came  in  to  get  a  warrant  from 
Judge  Trivvy." 

"An'  the  Stuarts  come  to  get  Enright." 

"An'  they'd  'a'  got  me,  if  I'd  stayed  a  minute 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      283 

longer!  I've  been  a-wonderin'  who  the  gent  was 
I  fell  over  as  I  was  goin'  out  Judge  Triwy's 
door!" 

"  They  got  Enright — yuh  seen  them  two  new 
deputies — an'  the  judge  went  off  in  a  faint. 
Guess  they  thought  they'd  killed  him.  Anyhow, 
it  'd  'a'  saved  a  heap  of  trouble  if  they  had.  I 
s'pose  a  feller  can't  expect  everythin'.  Can  yuh 
scrouge  over  a  little? " 

"Shore!    How's  that?" 

"  Fine  for  the  money.     Have  a  chaw? " 

"  Not  for  liT  Willie.  I'll  roll  me  a  pill  when 
my  magazine's  empty." 

"  What  gets  me,"  said  Damman,  "  is  how  them 
Stuarts  an'  Enright  happened  to  fall  out.  They 
used  to  be  thicker'n  cold  molasses ;  but  I  did  hear 
there  was  some  trouble  about  cows  over  to  Fort 
Henderson." 

"  I  guess  maybe  there  was,"  Gilmore  drawled. 
"  I  guess — maybe — there  was ! " 

The  wisp-like  Damman  scratched  an  ear  with 
his  trigger-finger  and  grinned  expansively. 

"  It  shore  beats  hell  how  part  o'  the  world 
ain't  big  enough  for  some  people,"  he  remarked 
sagely.  *  They  got  to  go  try  in'  to  hawg  it  all — 
then  o'  course  they  gets  planted,  an'  nobody's 
more  surprised  than  they  be  theirselves.  Yuh'd 
think  them  four  ranches  'd  learn  sense." 

"  One  of  'em's  a-learnin'  fast — now." 

"  Yo're  shore  singin'  a  true  song!  Well,  she 
had  to  come  some  time,  an'  it  might  as  well  be 
now,  an' " 


284      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Bang!  Gilmore's  Winchester  cut  short  the 
sentence.  Simultaneously  a  bullet  chucked 
softly  into  the  traverse  and  a  cloud  of  white  dust 
puffed  out,  to  be  followed  immediately  by  a  trick- 
ling stream  of  flour. 

"Plug  her,  Shorty,  will  yuh?"  called  the 
storekeeper.  "  It's  such  a  job  scrapin'  her  up  off 
the  floor." 

The  obliging  Shorty  complied  with  the  re- 
quest, employing  for  the  purpose  a  Sharps  shell. 

"  Djuh  get  him?  "  he  asked  of  his  partner. 

"  I  dunno,"  Gilmore  replied.  "  It  was  just 
the  point  of  his  shoulder  I  saw." 

"Which  I  can't  see  him  at  all,"  complained 
Shorty.  "  I  can't  see  notliiri!  Say,  there's 
somethin'  movin' — see,  down  there  near  the  cor- 
ner o'  the  big  corral.  Anyhow,  there's  a  crack 
there,  an'  the  edge  o'  the  co't-house  shows  through 
it.  No,  it  don't  show  now !  " 

Shorty's  buffalo  gun  roared.  When  the  smoke 
cleared  away,  the  marksman,  to  his  satisfaction, 
perceived  the  corner  of  the  court-house  through 
the  crack  in  the  stockade  of  the  large  corral. 

Shorty's  shot  seemed  to  have  aroused  the 
enemy.  Promptly,  f rom  the  windows  and  partly 
opened  doors  of  the  court-house  and  the  build- 
ings beyond,  there  issued  quick-winking  orange 
flashes  and  gray  smoke.  Gilmore,  working  his 
lever  with  such  speed  that  the  reports  burred  like 
the  roll  of  a  drum,  threw  ten  shots  through  the 
court-house  door.  Somebody  made  haste  to 
close  the  door.  The  horses  tied  to  the  hitching- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      285 

rail,  terrified  by  the  spurts  of  flame  and  smoke 
in  their  vicinity,  sat  back  on  their  haunches,  tore 
themselves  loose,  and  fled  in  all  directions. 

"That's  good!"  observed  Gilmore.  "Now 
they  can't  get  away  on  'em." 

Shorty,  aiming  carefully,  was  boring  the  plank- 
ing beneath  the  sills  of  each  court-house  window 
in  succession. 

"Al'ays  told  'em  they'd  ought  to  build  that  o' 
logs  all  the  way  up,  'stead  o'  just  the  founda- 
tion," observed  Shorty.  "  But  no,  they  had  to 
put  on  more  dog  than  a  shave-tail  lootenant,  an' 
use  planks.  The  judge  he  plumb  insisted  on 
'em.  If  he's  in  there  now,  I  bet  he  wishes  he'd 
took  my  advice!" 

Gilmore,  when  next  he  reloaded  his  Win- 
chester, told  his  three  companions  of  the  Barred 
O  ranch  and  the  activities  of  Shaw  in  that  direc- 
tion. 

"  I  ain't  surprised,"  said  Damman,  shaking  his 
head;  "but  it  strikes  me  yuh  was  shore  actin' 
charitable  to  offer  a  stand-up  fight  to  them  two 
rustlers,  Shaw  an'  Slim.  They'd  ought  to  'a' 
been  plugged  any  old  way." 

"  My  idea  exactly.  That's  why  I  got  'em  to 
go  out  in  the  street — so's  I  could  shoot  'em  any 
old  way.  S'pose  now  I'd  blatted  out  inside  there 
all  about  the  Barred  O.  The  fracas  would  'a' 
started  right  then,  an'  we  wouldn't  'a'  had  a 
chance.  No,  sir,  I  had  to  try  an'  get  'em  away 
from  their  friends.  They're  the  brains  o'  that 
crowd,  those  two.  Once  they're  rubbed  out,  the 


286      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

rest  o'  the  outfit  won't  last  much  longer'n  a  small 
drink  in  a  big  town." 

"  Dirty  kyotes!  "  interpolated  Sam,  the  store- 
keeper. 

'  You  was  shore  takin'  a  long  chance,"  ob- 
served Damman.  "  S'pose  them  two  Barred  O 
punchers  got  here  before  you  did — then  what?  " 
'  Well,  I  had  to  risk  that." 

"  If  they  float  in  here  later  we'll  attend  to  'em." 

"  It  don't  matter  an  awful  lot  what  happens 
to  'em.  Durin'  to-day  an'  to-morrow  rustlin'  in 
Glenn  County  is  shore  due  to  receive  a  bad  set- 
back. I  guess  maybe  I  forgot  to  tell  yuh  I  sent 
two  o'  my  men  to  the  Mark,  to  tell  them  what  was 
doin'  an'  invite  'em  over." 

"Which  yuh  shore  did  forget  to  tell  that! 
The  Mark,  huh?  That's  good  hearin'.  They'll 
be  over  all  right,  or  I  don't  know  Doheny !  " 

"  They'd  'a'  been  over  before,  only  the  job  was 
a  leetle  too  big  for  'em  to  swing,"  remarked  the 
storekeeper.  "  But  now,  with  yore  bunch  o' 
fighters,  Mr.  Gilmore,  it's  like  bettin'  on  a  shore 
thing.  They  can't  lose." 

The  storekeeper  fell  back,  clutching  his  arm. 
A  bullet  had  ripped  his  right  forearm  from  wrist 
to  elbow.  Almost  crazy  with  pain,  for  the 
missile  had  grazed  the  funny-bone,  the  store- 
keeper danced  up  and  down  and  called  down  the 
i  most  terrific  curses  on  the  heads  of  those  in  the 
court-house.  He  was  bandaged  by  Damman, 
and  after  a  space  went  back  to  his  window.  Be- 
tween rumbling  strings  of  oaths  he  began  again 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      287 

to  reduce  the  architectural  value  of  the  court- 
house. 

"  I  wish  we  could  get  into  that  storehouse 
across  the  street,"  Damman  said. 

"We'll  get  into  it  to-night,"  Gilmore  told 
him. 

'  If  they  don't  get  there  first!  " 

"  They  won't,  you'll  see.  Lord,  listen  to  those 
shots  from  the  corral!  That  fellah  don't  care 
how  many  shells  he  w.astes.  Must  be  Big  Art- 
he  always  was  the  spendthrift  boy.  Who's  got 
the  buffalo  in  yore  hotel?  She's  been  a-goin'  off 
every  so  often." 

"  My  cook.  He's  Scotch,  an'  never  wastes  a 
shell."' 

Save  that  of  the  cheerful  shooter  down  by  the 
corral,  there  was  now  very  little  firing — in  pro- 
portion, at  least,  to  the  number  of  men  engaged. 
There  was  certainly  nothing  of  the  spectacular 
about  the  fight.  Both  sides  were  waiting  for  the 
coming  of  night  to  enable  them  to  work  in  closer. 

This  being  the  case,  it  was  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  Gilmore,  Nivette,  and  a  dozen  friends, 
entering  the  front  door  of  the  storehouse  in  the 
last  of  the  twilight,  surprised  several  gentlemen 
crawling  in  through  the  rear  windows. 

Gilmore's  little  force  promptly  went  into 
action  with  such  vigor  that  the  enemy  was  unable 
to  retain  a  foothold  in  the  place.  He  retired, 
leaving  one  dead  in  a  jack-knife  position  across 
a  window-sill,  and,  judging  by  the  swearing, 
carrying  two  wounded. 


288      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

But  Gilmore's  men  had  not  escaped  scot-free. 
Nivette  had  a  furrow  along  his  scalp,  and  Big 
Art  was  dead.  Under  the  sheltering  overhang 
of  a  counter,  Gilmore  lit  a  match  and  held  it  over 
the  quiet  face. 

"  Plumb  in  the  forehead,"  he  said.  "  He  never 
knew  what  hit  him.  We'll  make  'em  pay  for  it. 
You  were  shore  one  good  fellah,  if  there  ever  was 
one!" 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LEAVING  eleven  men  to  barricade  and  hold  the 
storehouse,  Gilmore  took  Nivette  and  scouted 
out  to  the  stockade  of  the  big  corral  between  the 
storehouse  and  the  court-house.  Crawling  along 
on  hands  and  knees,  he  butted  head  foremost  into 
a  silent  citizen  coming  the  other  way. 

Although  a  many-starred  constellation  pin- 
wheeled  before  his  eyes,  Gilmore  managed  to 
reach  out  and  grip  the  other  man  by  the  neck. 
Nivette,  desirous  of  taking  part  in  the  festivities, 
plunged  forward.  Gilmore  thought  for  an  in- 
stant that  the  stockade  had  fallen  on  him,  but  it 
was  only  the  half-breed  scrambling  along  his 
spinal  column. 

Ship-chuck!  A  knife  flipped  down  and  pinned 
Gilmore's  shirt  and  a  fold  of  skin  to  the  ground, 
and  somebody  stuck  a  thumb  in  his  eye.  Squirm- 
ing with  pain,  he  struck  out  with  the  barrel  of  his 
Colt — and  very  nearly  ruined  Nivette's  knuckles. 

Simultaneously  a  hand  seized  a  generous  hand- 
ful of  Gilmore's  hair  and  wrenched  strongly. 
This  time  the  arc  described  by  his  six-shooter 
ended  at  the  back  of  some  one's  head.  The  hand 
pulling  Gilmore's  hair  relaxed,  and  he  felt  the 


290      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

throat  he  was  gripping  go  limp.  The  head  fell 
forward  over  his  wrist. 

"  By  gar,"  whispered  Nivette,  "  my  hail'  ees 
shore  done  for!  Dees  feller  ees  one  good 
fightair!" 

'  That  was  me  hit  yore  hand,"  grunted  Gil- 
more.  "  I  thought  it  was  that  fellah's  head. 
Take  one  of  his  feet,  will  yuh?  We'll  drag 
him  in." 

Jarring  reports  smashed  the  silence  as  several 
rifles  in  the  court-house  began  to  flash.  Bullets 
spatted  into  the  ground,  ricocheted  with  shrills, 
buzzing  whines,  or  smacked  into  the  posts  of  the 
stockade. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  git  a  move  on!  "  besought 
Gilmore,  a  missile  having  gone  through  his  hat. 

Crouching,  taking  tremendous  steps,  holding 
their  captive  by  an  ankle  apiece,  they  dragged 
him  round  the  corral  to  the  storehouse.  Boost- 
ing him  through  a  window  into  the  hands  of  the 
others,  they  followed. 

"  Who  is  it  you've  got  there? "  queried  the 
town  blacksmith. 

"  I  dunno,"  replied  Gilmore.  "  He  shore  put 
up  a  hard  fight!  He  nigh  blinded  my  eye,  an' 
tried  to  knife  me,  but  only  got  a  small  piece  of 
skin.  Then  he  pulled  out  half  my  hair,  an' 
Smoky  comes  along  an'  uses  my  back  for  a  road. 
I'm  sore  all  over!  " 

"  My  hand,"  observed  Nivette,  wigwagging  his 
fingers  in  the  darkness,  "  ees  all  same  bust.  I 
can  wiggle  de  fingair  no  more." 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      291 

"  Ow,  my  head!"  groaned  a  new  voice — the 
voice  of  the  captive. 

"  Dakota!  "  exclaimed  Gilmore. 

"Shore,  Dakota!  Who'd  yuh  think  it  was? 
What  fell  on  me?  What  happened  anyway? " 

"  I  thought  you  were  one  o'  the  other  fellahs," 
explained  Gilmore. 

"  So  you  done  it,  huh?  Well,  if  this  is  the  way 
yuh  treat  yore  friends,  I  don't  want  to  be  yore 
enemy,  none  whatever!  My  head's  busted. 
What  did  yuh  hit  me  with — a  ax?  " 

"  Only  my  gun." 

"Only  yore  gun!  Only  yore  gun!  Yuh 
might  think  she  was  a  powder-puff,  the  way  you 
talk.  Only  yore  gun!  I  tell  yuh  I'm  mighty 
lucky  if  I  don't  have  brain  fever  or  some- 
thin'." 

"  Yuh  couldn't  ever  have  brain  fever,"  Gil- 
more  assured  him ;  "  so  yuh  don't  need  to  fret." 

"  Oh,  couldn't  I?  That's  all  you  know  about 
it.  Yuh  needn't  think,  'cause  yo're  you,  yuh  got 
a  mortgage  on  all  the  brains  in  the  county. 
What  do  yuh  think  I  was  doin'  out  there  by  the 
corral,  huh?  I  was  comin'  in  from  spyin'  on  the 
court-house — that's  what  I  was  doin'."  , 

"  Good  for  you,  Dakota!  What  did  yuh  find 
out? " 

"  I  found  out  they're  plannin'  to  burn  this 
storehouse.  Leastwise,  they  was  all  talkin'  about 
it  when  I  left  where  I  was  hidin'  underneath  the 
window.  Feller  come  along  an'  near  stepped  on 
my  face.  I  shore  thought  I'd  have  to  shoot  him. 


292      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Then  maybe  liT  old  Dakota  never  would  'a'  come 
back." 

"  What  else  did  they  say?  " 

"  Nothin',  'cept  that  the  wind  bein'  just  right 
when  they  set  fire  to  the  storehouse  the  sparks 
'd  go  across  the  street  and  set  fire  to  the  hotel." 

"Well,  God  bless  their  lovin'  hearts!"  ex- 
claimed Shorty  Damman. 

"  They  don't  like  yuh  none  at  all,"  said  Dakota 
gravely. 

"  Come  on!  We  got  to  stop  their  fireworks 
display,"  remarked  Gilmore,  "  an'  the  only  place 
we  can  do  it  is  outside.  An'  next  time  yuh  got  to 
go  rampagin'  round  at  night  thisaway,  Dakota, 
you  let  us  know  ahead  o'  time." 

*  You  can  gamble  I  will,"  was  Dakota's  fer- 
vent response  as  he  tenderly  felt  his  aching  head. 
"  Yuh  needn't  be  afraid  to  drop  anybody  yuh  see 
or  hear.  I  was  the  only  one  out." 

"  They  must  shore  be  drunk,"  whispered 
Shorty  Damman  to  Gilmore,  when  the  two  were 
outside.  "  They's  a  lot  o'  Plain  Edgers  among 
'em.  Don't  they  know  the  whole  town'll  go?  " 

"  Seems  like  they  don't.  But  the  whole  town 
won't  go — not  if  we  know  it! " 

Followed  by  Nivette,  the  two  crawled  over  to 
the  corner  of  the  corral.  Crouching  beside  it, 
they  prepared  to  make  life  exciting  for  any  one 
injudicious  enough  to  attempt  the  firing  of  the 
storehouse.  At  the  opposite  corner  of  the  corral 
were  posted  Dakota  and  three  men.  The  others 
lay  a  few  yards  out  from  the  storehouse  wall. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      293 

"  Listen  to  them  fools  in  the  hotel,"  said 
Shorty.  ;<  They're  firin'  again,  an'  there  ain't 
nothin'  to  shoot  at.  I  know  it." 

"  Must  be  doin'  it  for  company,"  suggested 
Gilmore.  "  No,  they  ain't,  either.  Hear  those 
other  rifles?  They  sound  kind  o'  muffled,  like 
they  was  way  off.  They  ain't  comin'  from  the 
court-house.  They're " 

"  They're  behind  the  string  o'  shacks  on  the 
same  side  of  the  street  as  the  hotel — that's  where 
they  are!" 

"  Yo're  whistlin' — an'  there's  some  more  on  the 
other  side  o'  the  hotel — outside  o'  town." 

"  They's  good  cover  behind  a  cut-bank  about 
three  hundred  yards  beyond  the  last  shack,"  said 
Damman. 

"  That's  where  they  are.  They're  aimin'  to 
surround  us ! " 

"  It  looks  like  they  done  it,  too,"  Shorty 
gloomily  observed. 

"  Wait  till  that  crowd  behind  the  cut-bank  sees 
Jimmy  an'  his  mob  ridin'  in,"  returned  Gilmore, 
not  discouraged.  "  They  won't  be  expect  in' 
that!" 

"  I  hear  somet'ing! "  came  in  Nivette's  cautious 
whisper. 

They  listened.  In  the  darkness  beyond  them 
some  one  was  undoubtedly  moving.  Suddenly 
there  was  the  sound  of  a  slip  and  a  smothered 
curse. 

"  Crawlin'  in,  an'  cut  his  hand  on  a  busted 
bottle,"  grinned  Gilmore  to  himself,  and  tossed 


294      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

up  his  six-shooter.  Following  the  bunched  re- 
ports there  was  an  instant  scurry  of  pelting  feet, 
diminuendo.  "Hear  'em  hit  the  grit!"  he 
chuckled,  as  he  ejected  the  empty  shells.  "  There 
was  more'n  one." 

"  Four,"  said  Nivette,  jamming  cartridges 
through  his  loading-gate.  "  I  do  not  t'ink  we 
geet  any,  but  we  scare  dem." 

"  They  know  we're  watchin'  now.  They  won't 
come  again." 

They  did  not  come  again,  but  they  endeavored 
to  set  fire  to  the  corral. 

"  They  are  drunk,"  remarked  Shorty.  "  Fire 
that  corral,  huh?  She  was  only  built  three  weeks 
ago,  an'  the  wood's  so  green  she  wouldn't  burn 
on  a  bet.  There,  she's  flickerin'  out.  Ain't  even 
enough  light  to  shoot  by." 

"  They're  behind  the  stockade,  some  of  'em," 
said  Gilmore.  "  What  ain't  there  are  huggin' 
cover  too  close  to  do  us  any  good.  If  I  can  only 
get  one  shot  apiece  at  Shaw  an'  Slim — that's  all 
I  want." 

"  Dey  are  mine,  dem  two  fellers,"  said  Nivette 
softly;  "  un,  by  gar,  I  weel  tak'  deir  hair,  me! " 

"  Yo're  shore  welcome,  Smoky,"  declared  Gil- 
more.  "After  all,  they  do  belong  to  you  more'n 
they  do  to  anybody  else." 

The  dawn  brought  a  brisk  resumption  of  firing. 
It  also  brought  unexpected  reinforcements  in  the 
shape  of  a  dozen  horsemen.  These  riders  were 
fired  on  by  the  force  behind  the  cut-bank.  Re- 
plying with  promptness,  they  chased  the  bush- 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      295 

whackers  to  the  cover  of  the  shacks  opposite  the 
court-house,  and  dismounted  behind  the  hotel 
corral. 

"  That  was  shore  no  trouble  at  all,"  the  hard- 
faced  leader  of  the  newcomers  informed  Gilmore. 
"  I  hope  the  rest's  as  easy.  Two  fellers  we  met 
yest'day  afternoon  said  the  V  Up-an'-Down  an' 
the  Hash  Knife  was  pullin'  Plain  Edge  to  slivers, 
so  we  come  to  sweep  up  the  pieces;  but  there  don't 
seem  to  be  no  pieces." 

"  There  will  be — with  yore  help,"  Gilmore  ob- 
served significantly. 

"My  idea  exactly!  Between  the  lot  of  us 
we'd  ought  to  lay  over  them  jiggers  like  a  big 
blanket  over  a  small  bed.  My  name's  Kling." 

Mr.  Kling  and  his  friends,  it  seemed,  were  in- 
habitants of  Warrior's  Mark.  They  had  been 
riding  out  on  business — the  business  happening 
to  be  the  pursuit  and  capture  of  a  horse-thief- 
when  they  had  met  Jimmy  and  the  Kid. 
Jimmy's  story  had  brought  them  hotfoot. 

"  Which  that  hoss-thief  was  just  swingin'  clear 
o'  the  grass-blades  when  yore  two  friends  rode 
up,"  said  Kling.  "  They  said  they  was  on  their 
way  to  the  Mark.  Ten  minutes  either  way  an' 
we'd  'a'  missed  'em,  'cause  we  hadn't  come  by  the 
trail  an'  we  didn't  figger  on  goin'  back  by  the 
trail.  Providential,  I  call  it." 

Gilmore  quite  agreed  with  the  engaging  Mr. 
Kling,  and  related,  over  a  Kentucky  breakfast, 
the  true  tale  of  the  Barred  Diamond  Eight  ranch 
on  Paint  Creek,  near  Sandy  River. 


296     The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

'Well,  I  shore  do  admire  a  hawg!"  pro- 
nounced Kling.  "  Which  lynchin'  is  too  good 
for  that  feller  Shaw!  He'd  ought  to  be  drug  to 
death.  Djever  stop  to  think  how  he  might  get 
away? " 

"  He  won't,"  affirmed  Gilmore.  "  He'll  stick. 
He's  got  sand." 

"  His  sand  may  be  part  chalk,"  said  the  doubt- 
ful Mr.  Kling. 

Following  the  advent  of  the  newcomers  there 
was  a  more  or  less  brisk  exchange  of  shots.  To- 
ward noon  it  became  desultory,  dropping,  on  the 
part  of  the  enemy,  to  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve 
shots  in  the  hour.  But  when  Jimmy,  the  Kid, 
Doheny,  and  forty-two  citizens  of  Warrior's 
Mark  arrived  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon, 
Shaw's  outfit  began  to  waste  ammunition  in 
scandalous  fashion.  They  saw  the  beginning  of 
the  end. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Six  hundred  yards  in  rear  of  the  court-house 
a  long,  shallow  draw  paralleled  Plain  Edge's 
main  street.  It  was  an  excellent  position  from 
which  to  enfilade  the  court-house  and  the  row  of 
shacks  and  houses  on  its  flank,  and  Gilmore  had 
only  been  prevented  from  circling  the  town  and 
occupying  it  by  a  lack  of  men.  Now,  with  a 
large  force  at  his  disposal,  he  promptly  posted 
Doheny  and  thirty  willing  fighters  in  that  draw. 

"We'll  jump  'em  to-night,"  Gilmore  told 
Jimmy  and  Damman. 

"Fine!"  said  the  wispy  hotel-keeper,  draw- 
ing a  plug  from  his  boot-leg  and  biting  off  a 
large  chew.  "  I  ain't  as  young  as  I  was  twenty 
year  ago,  but  I  don't  mind  gettin'  in  where  it's 
warm  once  in  a  while.  Djever  stop  to  think  how 
maybe  they'll  get  away  on  their  bosses?  " 

"They  can't,"  Gilmore  replied.  "Most  o' 
their  bosses  ran  out  o'  town." 

"  Most  o'  theirs  did,  but  there's  others  in  them 
corrals  at  the  far  end  o'  town — next  to  them  last 
two  shacks." 

"  They  won't  get  away  on  'em,"  declared  Gil- 
more.  "  Jimmy  an'  a  few  o'  the  boys'll  be 
hangin'  round  those  corrals." 


298      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

That  night  was  clear — too  clear.  The  starlight 
enabled  the  watchers  at  the  court-house  windows 
to  see  several  dark  shapes  moving  toward  them. 
The  watchers  fired  their  Winchesters.  Instantly 
there  broke  out  on  the  front,  side,  and  rear  of  the 
court-house  a  furious  chatter  of  gun-fire.  The 
sharp  crack  of  the  Winchester  was  answered  by 
the  heavier  report  of  the  Colt's  "  Frontier." 

Thud!  Cr-r-rash!  The  butt  of  a  log  batter- 
ing-ram shivered  and  smashed  the  door  of  the 
court-house.  In  through  the  splintery  open- 
ing drove  a  torrent  of  men,  shooting  as  they 
came. 

The  fighting  in  the  court-house  was  over  within 
four  minutes.  When  the  few  prisoners  had  been 
tied  with  their  own  lariats,  Gilmore  reloaded  his 
reeking  six-shooter  and  led  the  way  into  the 
street,  where,  to  judge  by  the  inferno  of  noise, 
a  good-sized  skirmish  was  in  progress. 

The  gray  smoke  hung  in  the  air  like  fog. 
Through  it  stabbed  the  level  orange  flashes  of  the 
guns.  Men  met  death  each  after  his  own  fashion 
there  under  the  stars. 

Shorty  Damman's  bartender  had  an  alarm- 
clock,  and  its  hands  indicated  12:  55  A.  M.  when 
the  last  shot  was  fired.  The  bartender  could  not 
see  what  time  it  was,  however,  for  he  was  too  far 
under  the  bar;  nor  had  he  any  means  of  knowing 
that  the  battle  was  over.  So  he  stayed  where  he 
was  till  many  men  stamped  into  the  barroom  and 
bellowed  for  liquor. 

"A  good  half  of  'em  got  away,"   mourned 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      299 

Jimmy,  squeezing  his  glass  as  if  he  feared  it 
would  also  escape  him. 

"About  twenty  or  twenty-five,"  corrected  Gil- 
more.  "  It  can't  be  helped.  Anyhow,  I  don't 
guess  they'll  hang  around  Glenn  County  a  whole 
lot." 

"  By  gar,  Sleem  un  Shaw  dey  shore  geet  away," 
growled  Smoky  Nivette,  pushing  his  way  to  Gil- 
more's  side. 

"  I  know,"  nodded  his  friend.  "  I  went  over 
everythin'  careful  with  a  lantern.  I  guess  they 
made  it,  all  right." 

"  How  many  djuh  lose,  Dal?"  asked  Shorty 
Damman. 

"  Two  gone  out  an'  eight  nicked  an'  grazed  in 


various  wavs." 


*  We  lost  one  an'  three  hit,  countin'  Sam,  who 
was  nicked  the  first  day.     The  Mark  crowd— 
here's   Doheny!     What    did   they    do    to   yuh, 
Doheny?" 

"  Three  down,"  replied  Doheny,  "  an'  five 
hurt." 

"  Nothin'  the  matter  with  that,"  said  Kling,  a 
bandage  concealing  the  major  portion  of  his  hard 
features.  "  Eleven  of  'em  cashed,  I  counted 
seventeen  creased,  an'  there's  eight  prisoners.  If 
the  river  was  nearer  town  there  wouldn't  so  many 
have  got  away.  That  an'  them  two-way  corrals 
was  what  helped  'em." 

After  breakfast  in  the  morning  a  party  of 
^rave-faced  men  accompanied  the  eight  prisoners 
into  the  fringe  of  cottonwoods  on  the  river-bank. 


300     The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Half  an  hour  later  the  grave-faced  men  returned 
without  the  prisoners.  It  was  then  that  Judge 
Trivvy,  tremulous  and  white-faced,  sought  out 
Gilmore. 

"  I  am  delighted  that  you  won,"  remarked  the 
old  rascal.  "  The  man  Shaw  and  his  evil  crew 
have  long  been  thorns  in  my  side.  By  threats  of 
bodily  violence  they  compelled  me  to  do  as  they 
wished.  I  thank  Heaven  that  the  menace  of 
their  presence  has  been  removed.  I  trust,  sir, 
that  you  will  follow  up  the  good  work.  Shaw 
and  Dennison  may  return;  but  I  am  sure  you 
will  know  what  to  do  if  they  should." 

Gilmore  could  only  gape  at-  the  ancient  rogue. 
Such  barefaced  assurance  was  almost  unbeliev- 
able. 

"  I  trust  that  you  bear  me  no  malice,"  quavered 
the  judge.  "  What  I  did  I  did  under  compul- 
sion— you  must  remember  that." 

"  Shore,  I'll  try  to  remember  it,"  agreed  Gil- 
more;  "  but  it'll  be  some  few  of  a  strain  on  my 
memory.  Yuh  see,  the  night  I  got  the  warrant 
for  Tom  Johnson  I'd  been  listenin'  under  yore 
window  a  little  longer  than  I  let  on.  I  heard 
yuh  hire  Crowner  to  down  me." 

Judge  Trivvy  appeared  to  curl  up  on  himself 
as  a  green  shaving  curls  in  a  hot  blaze. 

"  O'  course,  old-timer,  yo're  a  dog  an*  a  rat, 
an'  y'ain't  fit  to  talk  to,"  Gilmore  informed  him 
pleasantly ;  "  but  yuh  maybe  can  be  useful  to  me. 
If  the  Governor  or  Uncle  Sam  asks  any  questions 
about  this  night's  work,  you'll  know  how  to  tell 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      301 

'em  there  wasn't  any  real  trouble  at  all,  won't 
yuh?  An'  yuh  can  make  that  drunken  bummer 
of  a  district  attorney  keep  paws  off,  can't  yuh?  " 

"  My  dear  sir,  you  may  resfeassured "  be- 
gan the  judge  eagerly. 

"  I  guess  I  may  rest  assured  that  yo're  goin' 
to  be  one  good  liT  boy  from  now  on,"  coolly  in- 
terrupted Gilmore.  "  So  long's  y'are  good  an' 
try  to  please  me  by  livin'  honest  an'  judgin'  cases 
on  their  merits,  an'  keepin'  yore  mouth  shut  about 
what's  best  forgot,  just  so  long  yuh'll  be  able  to 
stay  out  o'  Leavenworth." 

"  Leavenworth! " 

"  Y'betcha !  Not  for  tryin'  to  have  me  rubbed 
out,  but  for  conspirin'  with  Enright  an'  Oyle  o' 
the  Fort  Henderson  agency  to  swindle  the  gov'- 
ment  on  the  beef  issue — see?  " 

The  judge  saw.  So  well  did  he  see  that  he 
even  managed  to  greet  with  a  smile  a  perturbed 
captain  of  cavalry  who  called  upon  him  an  hour 
later. 

"What  has  happened?"  inquired  the  officer. 

"  Happened?     Why,  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"  The  fight,  of  course." 

"What  fight?" 

"  What  fight?  What  fight?  Didn't  a  crowd 
of  gun-fighters  try  to  wipe  out  the  town  last 
night?" 

"  No,  captain,  no.     I  have  heard  of  no  such 


occurrence." 


The  captain  stared.     Then  he  ran  a  finger 
round  the  inside  of  his  collar  and  gulped. 


302      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Judge,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  early  this  morn- 
ing a  scared  tin-pedler  drove  into  camp  and  said 
that  Plain  Edge  was  being  shot  to  pieces.  I  rode 
here  with  my  troop  at  once.  And  you  say  there 
has  been  no  fight!  Why,  the  door  of  the  court- 
house has  been  smashed  in,  the  front  of  the  build- 
ing is  full  of  bullet-holes,  and  there  are  eight 
dead  men  hanging  in  the  cotton  woods  at  the  head 
of  the  ford!" 

"  Oh,  those  men — yes,  of  course.  No  wonder 
you're  puzzled,  but  you  needn't  be.  It's  really 
very  trivial  indeed.  A  party  of  strangers  fell  to 
quarreling  among  themselves.  Some  of  the 
bullets  went  a  little  wild.  That  accounts  for  the 
holes  in  the  court-house." 

"  But  it  doesn't  account  for  the  dead  bodies 
hanging  in  the  cottonwoods,  or  for  the  number  of 
bandaged  men  on  the  street !  " 

"  Well,"  replied  the  judge,  in  an  extremely 
dry  tone,  "  some  of  the  bullets  didn't  go  wild." 

With  which  explanation  the  captain  was  forced 
to  be  satisfied. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

MEANTIME  Gilmore  and  his  men,  accompanied 
by  Mrs.  Kyle  and  a  delegation  of  Plain  Edge 
and  Warrior's  Mark  citizens,  were  riding  to 
Virgin  City.  Some  of  those  who  ran  from  the 
Plain  Edge  fight  had  also  taken  the  trail  to 
Virgin  City;  but  they  were  not  there  when  the 
posse  arrived.  According  to  Mrs.  Kyle's  bar- 
tender, they  had  passed  through  with  as  little 
delay  as  possible.  The  marshal  had  joined  them, 
as  had  several  other  undesirables  of  Virgin  City. 

"  How  many  hours  ahead  are  they? "  asked 
Gilmore. 

"  'Bout  four  hours,"  was  the  bartender's  reply. 

"  They  was  more'n  eight  hours  ahead  when  we 
started,"  put  in  Jimmy. 

"  We'll  change  bosses  an'  keep  a-goin',"  said 
Gilmore. 

They  kept  going,  but  so  did  the  bad  men  of 
Glenn  County.  As  was  to  be  expected,  the  pur- 
suers found  that  the  pursued  had  split  into  groups 
of  three  or  four  and  scattered  in  widely  divergent 
directions.  Gilmore  promptly  divided  the  posse 
into  three  sections,  assigned  a  trail  to  each,  and 
renewed  the  pursuit. 

In  Gilmore's  section  were  Jimmy  and  Smoky 
Nivette.  The  latter,  reputed  to  be  the  best 


304      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

trailer  in  the  Territory,  rode  beside  Gilmore,  his 
swarthy  face  alight  with  the  wolf-lust  of  the  best 
hunting  in  the  world — the  hunting  of  man. 

It  was  the  half-breed  who  was  the  first  to 
glimpse  seven  horsemen  against  the  greeny- 
brown  of  a  distant  hillside. 

"  They  can't  be  what  we're  chasin',"  said  Gil- 
more,  glasses  at  his  eyes.  "  They're  shore  comin' 
this  way  too  fast." 

"  De  sun  ees  een  deir  eye,"  asserted  Nivette, 
"  un  we  are  een  de  shade  o'  de  pine-tree  wood. 
Dey  cannot  see  us." 

"  By  the  way  they're  ridin'  they'd  ought  to 
come  right  near  these  here  trees,"  Jimmy  sug- 
gested hopefully,  drawing  his  Winchester  from 
the  holster  under  his  leg.  "  That  steep  slope  is 
bound  to  throw  'em  this  way." 

"  This  is  about  as  good  a  place  as  any  to  wait 
for  'em,"  nodded  Gilmore.  "  Come  on,  boys — 
we've  got  to  get  the  bosses  back  in  the  trees." 

Twenty  minutes  later  seven  horsemen  de- 
bouched from  a  valley  a  mile  away.  They  had 
halved  the  distance  when,  even  as  Jimmy  had 
said,  the  steep  slope  of  a  hill  turned  them  almost 
directly  toward  the  ambushed  posse. 

"  It's  old  Stuart  an'  his  boys,"  Gilmore  re- 
marked quietly,  and  closed  the  glasses  with  a 
snap.  "  Don't  shoot  unless  yuh  see  'em  begin  to 
crowd  me.  I'm  goin'  out  to  talk  to  'em." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool !  "  exclaimed  Jimmy,  but  Gil- 
more  was  already  up  and  strolling  nonchalantly 
into  the  open. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      305 

In  the  longhorn  country  a  man  afoot  is  an  un- 
usual sight.  It  is  even  a  suspicious  one.  The 
seven  riders,  now  not  more  than  four  hundred 
yards  distant,  drew  apart,  and  three  of  them 
reached  down  for  their  rifles.  Not  so  Alec 
Stuart.  The  old  man  rode  steadily  forward. 

Gilmore  stood  still,  his  right  hand  raised  in  the 
peace  sign.  He  was  smiling  his  peculiar  smile. 
His  bright  blue  eyes  revealed  no  hint  of  that 
which  troubled  him — a  lively  fear  that  Stuart  and 
his  boys  would  lose  their  heads.  The  last  thing 
he  wished  was  to  have  one  of  them  stop  a 
bullet. 

Alec  Stuart  and  his  sons  halted  their  horses  in 
front  of  Gilmore.  There  was  a  glint  of  triumph 
in  the  old  man's  eyes.  Lanky,  the  young  Lucifer, 
grinning  a  grin  of  vindictive  malice,  began  to  un- 
strap his  rope.  The  other  sons  stared  with  frank 
hostility. 

'  Yuh  shore  ought  to  'a'  stayed  in  them  woods," 
observed  old  Alec.  "  I  don't  think  yuh'll  get 
away  this  time !  " 

*  Which  I  should  say  not! "  exclaimed  Lanky, 
and  swung  to  the  ground. 

Gilmore  did  not  move.  His  smile  became  a 
trifle  more  fixed.  His  thumbs  remained  hooked 
in  the  armholes  of  his  vest. 

"  I  wouldn't  do  nothin'  rash,"  he  suggested  in 
a  very  slow  drawl.  "  S'pose  yuh  take  a  squint  to 
yore  left  an'  a  little  back." 

Bob,  the  youngest  boy,  turned  his  head.  The 
others  did  not  remove  their  eyes  from  Gilmore's 


306      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

face.  With  a  precociously  lurid  imprecation, 
Bob  slid  his  Winchester  back  into  its  holster. 

"  What's  the  use?  "  he  said  rather  faintly. 

Old  Alec  flashed  a  look  over  his  shoulder.  At 
the  edge  of  the  wood  sixteen  men  were  standing. 
All  had  rifles,  and  all  the  rifles,  while  held  in 
various  positions,  were  pointing  in  the  general 
direction  of  Stuart  and  his  sons. 

The  old  rustler's  shoulders  hunched  forward, 
and  his  six-shooter  muzzle  gaped  at  Gilmore. 
Gone  was  the  erstwhile  triumph  in  his  eyes. 
They  were  ablaze  with  fierce  anger. 

"  If  a  shot's  fired,  you'll  be  the  first  to  die! " 
he  barked. 

"  Yuh  make  me  plumb  sick,"  declared  Gilmore. 
"  Honest,  if  yuh  had  six  times  as  much  sense, 
yuh'd  be  half-witted.  Don'tcha  use  that  head 
for  anythin'  besides  roundin'  off  yore  neck? " 

The  veins  in  the  aforementioned  neck  swelled 
alarmingly.  Gilmore  eyed  death  down  the  barrel 
of  Stuart's  long  six-shooter. 

"  I  know  how  yuh  feel,"  he  went  on  easily. 
"  Yuh'd  admire  to  fill  me  so  full  o'  lead  I'd  rattle, 
but  don't  be  a  bigger  fool  than  yuh  are.  Go 
ahead,  old-timer,  cuss  away!  Maybe  I'll  hear 
somethin'  new." 

"  Shut  up ! "  snarled  the  sunny-tempered 
Lanky.  "  I've  a  good  mind  to  take  a  chance  an' 
knock  yore  horns  off  right  now." 

"That's  for  you  to  decide,  fellah;  but  re- 
member, I  could  'a'  bushwhacked  you  sports  dead 
easy — with  the  accent  on  the  dead.  I  come  out 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      307 

here  to  talk  to  yuh,  hop  in'  yuh'd  be  sensible  an' 
listen  like  humans.  I  s'pose  it's  almost  too  much 
to  hope,  ain't  it?" 

"  Go  on!  "  grated  old  Stuart. 
'  Well,  first  maybe  yuh  can  gimme  some  in- 
formation.    Have  yuh  met  any  gents  that  was 
goin'  some'eres  else  in  a  hurry  lately?    We're 
huntin'  three." 

"  Whadda  yuh  mean?  "  demanded  Bob. 
'  Why,  nothin',  only  a  crowd  of  us  sort  o'  had 
a  run-in  with  the  V  Up-an'-Down  up  at  Plain 
Edge,  an'  a  good  many  of  'em  were  downed. 
We  hung  eight  after  the  fight.  Some  got  away, 
an'  we're  lookin'  for  'em,  like  I  say." 

Old  Alec  licked  his  lips ;  Lanky  spat  upon  the 
ground;  but  none  of  the  Stuarts  said  anything 
audible. 

"  How  comes  it  I  didn't  see  you  fellahs  at  the 
trial? "  Gilmore  asked. 

"  Huh!  "  snorted  old  Alec.  "  I  ain't  none  in 
favor  o'  gettin'  rid  o'  folks  that  way.  There's 
too  many  other  ways  o'  doin'  it  besides  goin'  to 
law — as  yuh'll  prob'ly  find  out ! " 

"  I  expect.  Now  listen  to  me.  I've  busted 
the  V  Up-an'-Down,  an'  I  won't  be  able  to  sleep 
easy  till  Shaw,  Slim,  an'  Tim  Simms  are  either 
stretched  or  run  out  o'  the  Territory.  So,  as  I 
like  my  sleep,  it's  a  cinch  those  three  fellahs  are 
goin'  to  do  some  hard  ridin'  for  a  while.  But 
that  ain't  really  what  I  aimed  to  tell  yuh.  Yuh 
got  Enright,  didn'tcha?  AnJ  there's  been  a  kind 
o'  slump  in  beef -issue  cows  an'  raised  vouchers 


308      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

ever  since.  Enright  an'  Oyle  weren't  the  only 
ones  in  that  deal,  but  who  the  other  was  don't 
matter.  It  wouldn't  help  yuh  to  know,  not  any. 
To  keep  on  our  ramblin'  way,  Tom  Johnson  o' 
the  Lazy  D  has  been  lynched.  First  an'  last  a 
whole  jag  o'  gents  have  gone  out.  Rustlin',  old- 
timer,  has  been  rode  to  a  whisper — unless  certain 
sports  choose  to  wake  her  up.  There's  plenty  o' 
range  in  Glenn  County.  It  ain't  necessary  to 
start  new  ranches,  like  Shaw  did  with  the  Barred 

0  an'  the  Barred  Diamond  Eight.    Yeah,  djever 
hear  o'  those  brands?    Well,  it  don't  matter,  none 
whatever.     As  I  was  sayin',  what  happened  at 
Plain  Edge  needn't  happen  again.     That  is,  it 
needn't  if  rustlin'  stops;  but  rustlin'  has  got  to 
stop,  an'  it's  goin'  to  stop  if  we  have  to  use  every 
rope  in  the  Territory.       Yuh  might  tell  yore 
friends,  if  you  have  any.    Yeah,  I  know  the  Tri- 
angle O  an'  the  Lazy  D  have  been  a  heap  care- 
less 'bout  other  folks'  cows,  but  I  kind  o'  think 
they'll  listen  to  reason  now.     In  fact,  I  know 
they'll  have  to.    Well,  I  got  to  be  weavin'.    Glad 

1  run  up  on  yuh.    I've  been  wantin'  to  see  yuh 
for  some  time.    So-long!  " 

'  You've  had  yore  say,"  old  Stuart  said  be- 
tween his  teeth,  "  an'  now  I'll  have  mine,  young 
feller !  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  get  meas- 
ured for  yore  coffin.  Yuh'll  shore  be  needin'  it 
one  o'  these  days.  You  hear  me?  " 

:<  Help  yoreself,"  smiled  Gilmore,  and,  turn- 
ing, walked  back  to  his  friends. 

Silently  he  mounted  his  horse  and  as  silently 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      309 

took  up  the  trail  of  the  fugitives..  Inwardly  he 
tingled  with  shame;  for  he  had  done  that  of 
which  he  had  never  for  an  instant  believed  him- 
self capable — he  had  actually  shown  leniency 
toward  rustlers;  and  all  because  he  loved  a  fem- 
inine relative  of  the  rustlers.  The  fact  that  his 
warning  had  been  flouted  and  would  certainly  be 
disregarded  did  not  tend  to  diminish  the  enormity 
of  his  offense  in  breaking  the  law  of  the  range. 

"  If  I'd  'a'  known  fallin'  in  love  meant  all  this 

muss "  he  thought,  not  realizing  that  the 

aforesaid  muss  was  responsible  for  his  falling  in 
love.  But  he  did  not  complete  the  sentence. 
"What  would  yuh  do?"  he  demanded  of  him- 
self instead.  "What  would  yuh  do,  huh?  Yuh'd 
do  it  all  over  again — that's  what  yuh'd  do !  " 

Jimmy  and  Nivette  wondered  what  their  com- 
panion was  smiling  at,  but  neither  made  any 
comment. 

"  Cloudin'  up,"  observed  Gilmore,  within  the 
hour. 

"  Beeg  storm,"  Nivette  contributed  briefly. 

An  hour  later  the  storm  broke.  Nivette  had 
spoken  the  truth.  Slickers  were  soaked  through 
in  less  than  twenty  minutes. 

"  No  use  goin'  on,"  pronounced  Gilmore  wrig- 
gling his  clammy  shoulders.  "  Sign  all  washed 
away." 

"Shore,"  said  Nivette.  "  Un  dey  know  eet. 
Eef  dey  have  sense,  dey  make  heap  of  trail  while 
de  storm  last — un  I  t'ink  dey  have  sense,  me." 

So  the  posse  rode  back  to  Virgin  City.     Gil- 


310      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

more,  unsaddling  at  the  hotel  corral,  felt  a  touch 
on  his  shoulder.  He  turned.  The  station-agent 
was  holding  out  a  letter.  Gilmore  took  it,  glanced 
at  the  superscription  and  promptly  felt  his  heart 
bump  its  way  up  into  his  throat ;  for  the  address 
was  in  the  handwriting  of  Louise  Stuart. 

"  Well,  he  might  'a'  said  somethin' !  "  grumbled 
the  agent  as  the  wordless  Gilmore  plunged  for- 
ward to  the  shelter  of  a  freight-wagon  tilt. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

BUT  Gilmore  was  oblivious  to  all  the  world. 
Opening  and  spreading  out  his  letter,  he  read 
it  with  a  careful  intensity  that  the  few  lines  it 
contained  did  not  seem  to  warrant. 

This  was  the  letter: 

DEAR  MR.  GILMORE: 

My  father  and  my  brothers  will  not  be  home  for  a 
week.  The  boys  are  all  out  on  the  range.  If  you 
receive  this  before  the  nineteenth,  I  wish  you  would  come 
to  see  me.  I  have  something  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  tell  you. 

LOUISE  STUART. 

Gilmore  took  from  his  pocket  the  well- 
thumbed  letter  brought  by  Smoky  Nivette  on  the 
occasion  of  his  taking  Slim  and  the  marshal  to 
Plain  Edge.  Comparing  both  letters,  he  could 
see  no  difference  in  the  handwriting. 

"  I  know  old  Stuart  an'  the  boys  were  goin' 
away  from  the  ranch  yesterday/'  he  mused. 
"  They  had  their  war-bags  with  'em,  too.  An' 
to-day's  the  nineteenth.  She  says  if  I  get  this 
before  the  nineteenth — an'  Mrs.  Kyle  said  a  let- 
ter supposed  to  be  from  Louise  was  goin'  to  invite 
me  out  to  the  ranch  so's  they  could  wipe  me  out 
nice  an'  easy.  But  this  handwritin' — it's  hers, 
I'll  swear  it's  hers !  " 


312      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

Gilmore  recinched  his  saddle  and  galloped  to 
the  station. 

"Who  brought  this?"  he  demanded  of  the 
agent,  thrusting  toward  the  latter  the  envelope 
of  Louise's  letter. 

"Billy  Bobtail,"  replied  the  agent  indiffer- 
ently. 

"  Where's  he,  this  Bobtail  gent?  " 

"  He  ain't  a  gent — he's  a  Injun,  an'  I  don't 
know  where  he  is.  He  might  be  'most  any- 
wheres." 

'  Yuh  shore  know  a  whole  lot,  you  do! 
When'd  he  bring  this  letter? " 

"  'Bout  four  days  ago.  I  can't  tell  yuh  no 
more'n  that." 

Gilmore  departed  in  haste  to  seek  the  errant 
Billy  Bobtail;  but  the  Indian  was  not  to  be 
found.  The  storekeeper  had  caught  him  paw- 
ing within  the  confines  of  the  prune-barrel, 
and  had  promptly  shown  Billy  the  error  of  his 
ways. 

*  Which  I  thro  wed  that  war-whoop  out  on 
his  ear,"  said  the  storekeeper.  "  The  last  I  seen 
of  him  he  was  punchin'  the  breeze  doo  east.  That 
was  yesterday.  If  his  cayuse  holds  out,  he'd 
ought  to  be  fordin'  the  War  Ax  right  now." 

The  last  sentence  was  spoken  to  Gilmore's  re- 
treating back. 

"  It's  the  nineteenth,  an'  it  may  be  a  blind;  but 
I  got  to  go,  I  got  to  go,"  Gilmore  muttered  as 
he  sloshed  his  way  to  the  Ace  Saloon. 

His  wish  was  to  borrow  a  fresh  horse  from 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      313 

Mrs.  Kyle.  He  knew  that  the  lady  owned  two 
good  animals. 

"  She's  went,"  the  bartender  said  in  answer  to 
Gilmore's  question.  "  Rode  away  two  days 
ago.  Didn't  say  where  she  was  goin'.  Said  she 
might  be  back  in  a  week,  maybe  less.  Shore, 
yuh  can  take  the  other  boss.  The  boss  won't 
mind." 

Gilmore's  intention  had  been  to  ride  alone  to 
the  Lazy  D;  but  neither  Jimmy  nor  Nivette 
would  hear  of  it. 

"  'T's  all  right,"  yapped  Jimmy;  "  don't  take 
all  the  boys  if  yuh  don't  want  to,  but  yuh  ain't 
a-goin'  out  there  without  Smoky  an'  me  an'  a  few 
others.  No,  y'ain't,  not  by  a  jugful !  If  we  have 
to,  we'll  trail  yuh.  We're  goin' — see?  " 

So  it  was  that  Gilmore  and  a  dozen  men, 
mounted  on  fresh  horses,  rode  away  through  the 
downpour.  With  the  wet  of  thirty-six  hours 
soaking  their  clothes  and  their  skins,  they  pushed 
their  steaming  animals  to  the  utmost. 

The  creeks  were  bank-full  and  over.  What 
had  been  dry  gullies  were  now  rushing  torrents 
of  yellow  water.  Every  depression  was  a  pond. 
The  face  of  the  land  was  a  sodden  waste. 

"  See  de  Hash  Knife  from  de  top  o'  dees  heel," 
said  Nivette  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  follow- 
ing day. 

At  the  time  they  were  breasting  a  long,  thinly 
wooded  slope.  Gilmore  at  once  halted  his  men 
and  rode  forward  alone.  On  the  hilltop  he  took 
out  the  field-glasses  and  reconnoitered  the  ranch- 


31 4      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

buildings.  They  were  not  more  than  three  miles 
away.  A  few  horses  stood  in  the  corrals.  Wood- 
smoke,  beaten  down  by  the  hammers  of  the  rain, 
pennoned  raggedly  from  the  kitchen  chimney  of 
the  ranch-house.  Evidently  some  one  was  at 
home. 

Even  as  he  looked,  three  riders  dashed  out  of 
a  draw  beyond  the  ranch-house,  galloped  to  one 
of  the  corrals,  and  dismounted.  Stripping  the 
saddles  from  their  own  beasts  they  roped  fresh 
horses  and  saddled  up. 

"  Must  be  goin'  away  in  a  hurry,"  observed 
Gilmore.  "  Now  they're  leadin'  the  hosses  out 
an'  tyin'  'em  to  the  stockade." 

He  continued  to  watch  as  the  three  figures  in 
the  shapeless  yellow  slickers  crossed  to  the  ranch- 
house  and  entered. 

"  Wonder  where  the  other  four  are? "  he  said. 
"  If  I'd  only  got  that  letter  day  before  yester- 
day!" 

Suddenly  the  door  of  the  kitchen  popped  open, 
and  a  man  issued,  walking  backward.  It  was 
sufficiently  odd  that  he  should  walk  backward, 
but  it  was  still  more  odd  that  he  should  be  tow- 
ing another  man's  body,  gripping  it  by  the  ankles. 
Once  the  dragging  head  was  clear  of  the  sill  the 
first  man  dropped  the  ankles  and  stepped  quickly 
into  the  house. 

Hardly  had  he  closed  the  door  when  it  opened 
again  and  a  woman  shot  out  with  two  men  in 
pursuit.  She  ran  well,  that  woman,  but  they 
caught  her  before  she  could  reach  one  of  the 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      315 

tied  horses  and  dragged  her,  struggling  every 
step  of  the  way,  back  to  the  house. 

Gilmore  did  not  see  her  taken  into  the  house. 
He  had  already  bounded  to  his  feet  and  torn  off 
his  soggy  slicker  and  was  running  back  to  his 
horse. 

He  topped  his  mount  with  a  rush,  spurred 
across  the  top  of  the  hill  and  plunged  full  tilt 
down  the  slope.  The  wiser  plan  would  have 
been  to  return  for  his  men,  but  Gilmore  had  no 
thought  for  either  men  or  plans.  He  even  for- 
got that  Louise's  letter  might  be  a  forgery.  He 
only  knew  that  a  dead  man  had  been  taken  out 
of  the  Hash  Knife  ranch-house,  and  that  a 
woman — undoubtedly  Louise  Stuart — had  been 
mishandled,  and  stood  in  danger  of  further  ill- 
treatment.  Whether  the  other  riders  were  the- 
Stuarts  or  other  folk  was  immaterial.  The  ac- 
counting would  be  the  same. 

The  hillside  above  the  Hash  Knife  is  not  steep, 
but  it  is  freckled  with  boulders,  among  which 
grow  cedar  and  lodge-pole  pine.  Here  and 
there  are  outcrops  and  little  ledges.  Certainly 
that  slope  is  one  to  be  negotiated  at  a  circumspect 
walk;  but  Gilmore  took  it  full  gallop.  Without 
doubt  Providence  dropped  everything  else  for 
the  moment  and  devoted  all  her  energies  to  the 
setting  down  and  taking  up  of  the  feet  of  the  im- 
petuous young  man's  horse. 

His  teeth  bared  to  the  gum,  panting  like  a 
runner  finishing  a  race,  Gilmore  leaped  the  pony 
over  a  log  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill  and  barged 


316      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

down  a  cut-bank  in  a  shower  of  mud  and  gravel 
into  six  feet  of  running  water.  The  horse 
plopped  out  of  sight,  but  came  up  snorting  and 
gamely  struck  out  for  the  opposite  bank. 

When  his  mount  touched  bottom,  Gilmore 
sank  in  the  spurs  and  laced  the  pony's  hind  quar- 
ters with  his  quirt.  With  a  swish  and  a  suck,  the 
animal  surged  out  of  the  water  and  clawed  and 
scrambled  up  the  bank  to  level  ground. 

Here  Gilmore  had  sense  enough  to  swing  to 
the  south,  thus  keeping  a  long  swell  between  him 
and  the  ranch-house.  A  mile  farther  on  he  jerked 
his  horse  into  a  draw  that  he  had  marked  from 
the  hilltop.  The  western  end  of  this  draw  was 
not  more  than  a  quarter-mile  from  the  ranch- 
buildings,  and  any  one  riding  toward  the  house 
would  be  concealed  throughout  the  whole  of  his 
approach  by  the  three  corrals. 

Ears  flat  back,  desperate  eyes  rimmed  with 
white,  outblown  nostrils  showing  red,  the  strong- 
hearted  little  horse  ran  like  wild-fire.  He  had  to, 
for  his  rider  quirted  and  spurred  without  ceas- 
ing. 

But  Gilmore  was  hardly  aware  of  what  his 
jabbing  heels  and  flailing  right  arm  were  doing. 
His  imagination  had  outstripped  his  racing 
mount,  and  into  his  brain  was  burned  a  picture 
of  the  ranch-house  interior. 

There  were  figures  in  that  picture — struggling 
figures.  He  saw  Louise  Stuart  dragged  through 
the  kitchen,  through  the  dining  room,  into  the 
living-room.  He  fancied  he  heard  her  shriek. 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      317 

Gilmore's  scalp  prickled.  The  hair  of  his  head 
stiffened  and  lifted  like  the  hackles  of  an  angered 
dog.  The  lust  to  kill  swept  through  him  in  a 
great  red  wave. 

Now  he  was  nearing  the  corrals.  He  swayed 
back  on  the  reins  with  such  force  that  his  horse, 
rearing,  almost  fell  over  backward.  The  rider 
flung  himself  from  the  saddle,  tore  the  hat  from 
his  head,  and  raced  along  the  stockade.  As  he 
ran,  he  pulled  his  six-shooter. 

Spinning  round  the  corner  of  the  corral,  he 
charged  straight  at  the  ranch-house.  Deep  in 
his  throat  he  made  odd,  whining  noises.  His 
eyes  glared  like  those  of  a  madman.  It  may  be 
that  for  the  moment  he  was  actually  insane. 

A  few  yards  from  the  door  he  slipped  and  fell 
heavily.  He  rolled  over  and  over  like  a  shot 
rabbit,  lunged  to  his  feet,  and  sprang  forward 
again. 

The  shock  of  the  fall  seemed  to  have  blown 
clear  the  red  fog  in  his  brain.  Instead  of  burst- 
ing open  the  door  in  the  fashion  of  the  bull- 
headed,  unreasoning  avenger,  he  paused  in  front 
of  it,  placed  his  ear  to  the  latch-string  hole,  and 
listened. 

;<  There,  yuh  clawin'  cat,"  the  voice  of  Shaw 
was  growling,  "  I  guess  yuh  won't  make  no  noise 
now!  Yuh  can  just  set  there  an'  watch  what 
happens  to  Mary  jane! " 

A  cackle  of  Pan-like  laughter  shrilled  but  at 
the  tail  of  the  words. 

"Ain't  it  luck,  catchin'  'em  both  together?" 


318      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

cried  Slim  Dennison.  "  My  gal  an'  yourn, 
Jack!" 

"  Where  do  I  come  in?  "  shouted  Tim  Simms, 
and  laughed  again  hideously. 

"You  will  all  be  killed  for  this!"  Louise 
Stuart  said  clearly,  unshakenly.  "  My  father 
and  brothers  will  be  home  almost  any  time." 

"  Will  they?  "  snarled  Shaw.  "  Well,  Lou, 
pretty  Lou,  we'll  gamble  with  yuh  on  that.  If 
they  come  back  before  we're  through,  we  lose. 
If  they  don't,  you  lose.  I'll  teach  yuh  to  gimme 
the  mitten!  Wouldn't  marry  me,  huh?  I  ain't 
good  enough  for  yuh,  huh?  Well,  when  I  get 
through  with  you,  you  won't  be  good  enough  to 
marry  yore  nice  little  feller,  Dal  Gilmore! " 

Gilmore  decided  that  the  time  had  arrived  to 
pull  the  latch-string.  Holding  his  six-shooter 
in  his  right  hand,  he  threw  the  door  open  with 
his  left,  saw  before  him  the  broad  back  of  Jack 
Shaw,  and  instantly  drove  two  bullets  through  it. 

Slim  Dennison  had  been  holding  Mrs.  Mary- 
jane  Kyle  against  the  wall,  with  one  hand  im- 
prisoning her  throat,  the  other  round  her  wrists, 
and  the  sole  of  a  heavy  boot  jamming  down  her 
two  feet.  At  the  thudding  crashes  of  the  double 
discharge  he  endeavored  to  get  his  gun  into  ac- 
tion. So  did  the  marshal  from  beside  the  chair 
to  which  he  had  been  making  fast  by  the  arms 
and  legs  a  greatly  disheveled  Louise  Stuart. 

Gilmore,  firing  through  the  smoke  swirling 
round  the  shoulders  of  Shaw's  falling  body,  shot 
Tim  Simms  through  the  right  eye  at  the  precise 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      319 

moment  that  the  latter  let  drive  from  the  hip. 
Tim  had  always  prided  himself  on  his  ability  to 
shoot  straight  from  the  hip.  It  would  have  vexed 
him  to  know  that  his  bullet  had  merely  removed 
a  small  patch  of  skin  from  his  opponent's  cheek- 
bone. 

Whirling  on  Dennison,  Gilmore  found  that 
worthy  wrestling  with  Mrs.  Kyle,  who,  at  the 
instant  her  hands  were  released,  had  seized  the 
butt  of  his  six-shooter.  Gilmore  effectively  des- 
troyed Slim's  further  usefulness  in  the  melee  by 
clipping  him  under  the  ear  with  his  gun- 
barrel. 

Mrs.  Kyle  leaned  against  the  wall,  panting, 
with  both  hands  over  her  eyes.  Beyond  the 
drifting  smoke-clouds  Gilmore  saw  the  face  of 
Louise  Stuart  staring  whitely  at  him.  He  ran 
to  her. 

"  I — I  knew  you'd  come ! "  she  gasped,  and 
fainted,  her  body  sagging  limply  forward  against 
the  rope  that  bound  her  to  the  chair. 

"  She'll  be  around  in  a  minute,"  said  Mrs. 
Kyle,  bending  over  the  bed,  on  which  the  sense- 
less form  of  Louise  Stuart  had  been  deposited. 
*  There,  there,  Mr.  Gilmore,  don't  look  so  wor- 
ried. She's  all  right,  I  tell  you ! " 

4  Yo're  shore  it's  only  a  faint?    Yo're  shore?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am.  Heavens,  don't  you  sup- 
pose I  know  what  a  fainting-spell  is  when  I  see 
it?" 

"  I  s'pose  yuh  do,"  he  replied  doubtfully. 


320      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  You  bet  I  do!  Get  me  some  more  water  and 
that  other  towel  hanging  there  by  the  stove." 

"  I'd  shore  admire  to  know  how  you  two  came 
to  be  here  all  alone,"  he  said,  coming  back  with 
the  water  and  the  towel.  "  Stuart  might  'a'  left 
a  couple  o'  punchers,  anyway." 

"  Every  last  one  of  'em's  out  on  the  range," 
explained  Mrs.  Kyle,  bathing  Louise's  forehead. 
"  The  storm's  drifting  the  cows  toward  the  Tri- 
angle O,  and  the  boys  are  busy.  I  guess  Alec 
didn't  think  there'd  be  any  trouble  like  this." 

"I  guess  he  didn't,"  Gilmore  nodded.  'I 
guess  now  maybe  he  didn't.  Lordy,  ma'am,  I'm 
glad  yo're  here!" 

"  It's  just  luck.  I  was  riding  to  Benson's 
ranch  on  some  business  when  the  storm  hit  me, 
and  this  was  the  nearest  house." 

And  then  Louise  opened  her  eyes.  Gilmore, 
on  his  knees  beside  the  bed,  caught  his  breath 
sharply.  With  a  gesture  as  natural  as  that  of  a 
child  she  held  out  her  arms. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

MRS.  KYLE  stared  at  the  two  sitting  shame- 
lessly hand  in  hand  on  the  long  bench  beside  the 
fireplace. 

"  Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  never  would  have 
guessed  it — never!  And  I  guess,"  she  added,  as 
a  shadow  crossed  the  window,  "  I  guess  here 
comes  somebody  who  never  would  have  guessed 
it  either." 

The  door  was  flung  violently  open,  and  in 
walked  Alec  Stuart,  Lanky,  and  Bob.  They 
were  oilskinned  and  dripping.  Their  amazed 
eyes  surveyed  the  two  holding  hands  on  the 
bench. 

Gilmore  grinned.  Louise  eyed  her  relatives 
reflectively,  much  as  one  would  gaze  upon  so 
many  specimens  of  some  annoying  insect. 

"Well,  I'd  like  to  know began  old 

Stuart. 

"I  just  guess  you  would!"  snapped  Mrs. 
Kyle.  "  Of  all  the  fools  I  ever  saw — and  I've 
seen  a  few — you're  the  biggest  and  the  oldest! 
Didn't  you  know  any  better  than  to  leave  Louise 
here  all  alone  with  only  Sing  Fah  while  you  went 
riding  round?  She'd  been  alone  for  a  day  and 
a  half  already  when  I  came.  It's  just  luck " 


322      The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"Wait,  Mary  jane!  I'll  talk  to  him,"  inter- 
rupted Louise,  slipping  in  front  of  Mrs.  Kyle. 
"  Dal,  stay  right  where  you  are.  I'm  doing 
this ! "  Her  amber  eyes  were  sparkling.  Her 
voice,  when  next  she  spoke,  was  low,  but  had  a 
vibrant  quality  that  emphasized  every  word. 
"  Maryjane  tells  me  that  you  and  Jack  Shaw  had 
planned  to  write  Mr.  Gilmore  in  my  name  invit- 
ing him  here  to  the  ranch.  Once  here,  you  in- 
tended to — to  murder  him.  You  needn't  attempt 
to  deny  it.  I  know  that  it's  true! " 

"  We — we  wasn't  goin'  to  murder  him  none," 
uncomfortably  pleaded  old  Alec.  '  We  was 
goin'  to  hang  him." 

*  That  my  own  father  could  be  so  base  is  un- 
thinkable! I'd  expect  anything  of  Lanky,  per- 
haps, but  not  you.  You  always  have  fought 
fairly." 

"  But  I  tell  you  we  didn't  send  him  the  letter. 
We " 

"  I  know  you  didn't,  but  I  did." 
'  You  did? " 

"  I  did,  jand  he  knew  of  your  plan  when  he  re- 
ceived it.  In  spite  of  that  he  came  here." 

"  So  I  see,"  said  the  old  man  dryly. 

"  But  there  are  other  things  you  don't  see," 
continued  Louise,  the  knuckles  of  her  clenched 
fists  white  against  the  tan.  "  You  are  not  aware 
that  a  short  time  before  Mr.  Gilmore  arrived, 
Shaw,  Dennison,  and  Marshal  Simms  rode  in. 
They  killed  Sing  Fah  when  he  tried  to  defend  us, 
they  tied  me  to  a  chair,  and  they  threatened 


The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D      323 

Mary  jane  and  me.  Do  you  understand?  They 
tied  me  to  a  chair,  and  they  threatened  both  of 
us!" 

A  low  growl  issued  from  the  throats  of  the 
six  Stuart  boys. 

"  Where  are  they?  "  demanded  Alec  Stuart  in 
a  terrible  voice,  his  stubby  mustache  working  with 
rage. 

1  You're  interested  now,  aren't  you?  Oh,  very 
much  interested  you  are!  Splendid  allies, 
weren't  they?  Well,  Mr.  Gilmore  arrived  before 
anything  really  serious  occurred.  He  shot  Shaw 
and  Simms,  and  knocked  out  Dennison." 

"  I  wouldn't  'a'  been  able  to  do  it  so  easy  if 
Mrs.  Kyle  hadn't  grabbed  his  gun,"  cut  in  Gil- 
more. 

"  It  doesn't  matter  how  it  happened.  What 
does  matter  is  that  Slim  Dennison,  hog-tied  and 
chained  to  the  anvil,  is  in  the  blacksmith-shop. 
You'll  find  the  bodies  of  the  others  there,  too. 
Shall  I  tell  them  now,  Dal? " 

Gilmore  nodded,  smiling,  and  stepped  for- 
ward to  her  side.  She  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

"  It  may  interest  you  to  know,"  Louise  con- 
tinued, "  that  I  am  engaged  to  John  Dalling 
Drummond.  Don't  look  so  stupid,  father!  He's 
the  son  of  the  late  owner  of  the  Lazy  D." 

"  But  what  are  yuh  holdin'  this  feller's  hand 
for? "  cried  her  puzzled  parent. 

"  Because  he  is  John  Dalling  Drummond — my 
Dal." 

"Fore  Dal?   Yore  Dal?'9 


324     The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D 

"  Certainly— my  Dal." 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Stuart,"  said  Gilmore,  his  blue 
eyes  twinkling,  "  I  thought  if  I  came  up  here  as 
a  deputy  sheriff,  instead  of  as  the  owner  of  the 
Lazy  D,  I  might  be  able  to  get  at  the  bottom  of 
the  trouble  in  Glenn  County." 

Alec  Stuart  batted  his  eyes  sharply.  Gil- 
more's  rescue  of  Louise  had  spiked  his  artillery 
to  the  last  gun.  Obviously  there  was  but  one 
course  to  follow.  He  stepped  forward,  his  hand 
held  out. 

"  So  far's  the  Hash  Knife  is  concerned,  there 
ain't  no  trouble  at  all  in  Glenn  County,"  he  an- 
nounced. "Shake!" 

"  I'll  answer  for  the  Triangle  O  an'  the  Lazy 
D,"  said  Gilmore  as  they  solemnly  shook  hands. 

"  Ain't  it  one  ring-tailed  whizzer  of  a 
weddin'?"  Jimmy  observed  to  Smoky  Nivette. 
*  There's  Tom  Stuart  eatin'  beef  with  two  Lazy 
D  boys  an'  the  Triangle  O  foreman.  Old  Alec 
an'  Shorty  Damman  are  camped  down  alongside 
a  whisky -kag  a-singin'  *  The  Bull-Whacker '  an' 
lowerin'  the  liquor  in  the  kag  at  the  end  o'  each 
verse.  There's  six  verses,  an'  they've  sung  the 
whole  tune  eight  times  so  far.  Come  on,  Smoky, 
le's  go  help  'em !  " 

"  I  am  wit'  you,"  said  Smoky  Nivette. 


THE  END 


NOVELS  BY  B.  M.  BOWER 


THE  LOOKOUT  MAN  Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

A  tale  of  action,  excitement  and  love,  full  of  the  charm 
of  the  great  outdoors,  in  which  the  story  of  the  life  at  a 
Forest  Reserve  Station  on  top  of  a  California  mountain 
is  vividly  portrayed. 

The  signature  of  B.  M.  Bower  is  a  valuable  trade-mark.  It 
stands  for  fiction  filled  with  the  spirit  of  ranch  life  in  the  northwest. 
— Boston  Herald. 

CABIN  FEVER  Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

How  Bud  Moore  and  his  wife,  Marie,  fared  through 
their  attack  of  "cabin  fever"  is  the  theme  of  this  B.  M. 
Bower  story. 

The  author  has  put  some  real  sentiment  into  a  story  that  gives 
a  rapidly  filmed  "movie"  of  Western  life. — Philadelphia  Public 
Ledger. 

STARR,   OF  THE  DESERT          Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

A  story  of  mystery,  love  and  adventure,  which  has  a 
Mexican  revolt  as  its  main  theme. 

The  tale  is  well  written,  with  the  fine  art  of  artlessness,  and  of  un- 
flagging interest;  a  book  worth  the  reading  which  it  is  sure  to  get 
from  every  one  who  begins  it. —  New  Tork  Tribune. 

THE  FLYING  IPS  LAST  STAND 

Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

What  happened  when  a  company  of  school  teachers  and 
farmers  encamped  on  the  grounds  of  the  Flying  U  Ranch. 

The  Northwestern  cattle  country  has  never  had  a  better  chronicler 
in  fiction  of  its  deeds  and  its  people  than  B.  M.  Bower. —  New  Tork 
'Times. 


LITTLE,  BROWN  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Boston,  Mass. 


NOVELS  BY  B.  M.  BOWER 


GOOD   INDIAN  Illustrated.     $1.60  net 

A  story  named  for  its  half-breed  hero,  who  dominates 
this  stirring  Western  romance. 

There  is  excitement  and  action  on  every  page  .  .  A  somewhat 
unusual  love  story  runs  through  the  book. — Boston  Transcript. 

THE  UPHILL  CLIMB  Illustrated.     $1.60  net   • 

How  a  cowboy  fought  the  hardest  of  all  battles — a 
fight  against  himself. 

Bower  knows  the  West  of  the  cowboys,  as  do  few  writers  to-day 
.  .  .  The  word  pictures  of  Western  life  are  realistic,  and  strongly 
suffused  with  local  color. — Philadelphia  North  American. 

LONESOME  LAND  Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

A  story  of  modern  Montana,  giving  a  wholly  different 
phase  of  life  among  the  ranches. 

Montana  described  as  it  really  is,  is  the  "lonesome  land"  of  this 
new  Bower  story.  A  prairie  fire  and  the  death  of  the  worthless 
husband  are  especially  well  handled. — A.  L.  A.  Booklist. 

SKYRIDER  Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

A  cowboy  who  becomes  an  aviator  is  the  hero  of  this 
new  story  of  Western  ranch  life. 

An  engrossing  ranch  story  with  a  new  note  of  interest  woven  into 
its  breezy  texture. — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

THE  THUNDER  BIRD  Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

Further  aeronautic  adventures  of  "Skyrider"  Johnnie 
Jewell. 

"A  good  story  with  numberless  thrills  and  a  humorous  quality 
throughout  its  pages." — New  Tork  Sun. 


LITTLE,  BROWN  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Boston,  Mass. 


NOVELS  BY  B.  M.  BOWER 


THE  RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

A  ringing  tale  full  of  exhilarating  cowboy  atmosphere,  abundantly 
and  absorbingly  illustrating  the  outstanding  feature  of  that  alluring 
ranch  life  that  is  fast  vanishing. — Chicago  Tribune. 

JEAN  OF  THE  LAZY  A  Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

A  spirited  novel  of  ranch  life  in  which  the  fascinating 
heroine  poses  for  film  pictures  that  she  may  make  money 
necessary  to  prove  her  father  innocent  of  a  crime  for  which 
he  has  been  convicted. 

It  possesses  all  the  popular  ingredients — a  quick-action  plot,  color 
and  picturesqueness  aplenty,  and  an  unflagging  interest — to  be 
found  in  Bower's  earlier  successes. — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

THE  PHANTOM  HERD  Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

Another  western  tale  in  which  the  Happy  Family  be- 
come real  "movie"  actors. 

There  has  been  so  much  truck  written  in  the  last  few  years  about 
motion  pictures,  that  it  is  a  positive  relief  to  find  a  book  by  an  author 
who  knows  exactly  what  to  talk  about  in  an  entertaining  manner 
with  a  knowledge  of  actual  conditions  as  they  exist. — Boston  Post. 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  SIOUX 

Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

A  Flying  U  story  in  which  the  Happy  Family  get 
mixed  up  in  a  robbery  faked  for  film  purposes. 

Altogether  a  rattling  story,  that  is  better  in  conception  and  ex- 
pression than  the  conventional  thriller  on  account  of  its  touches  of 
real  humanity  in  characterization. — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

RIM  O'  THE  WORLD  Frontispiece.     $1.60  net 

An  engrossing  tale  of  a  ranch-feud  between  "gun- 
fighters"  in  Idaho. 

LITTLE,  BROWN  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Boston,  Mass. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 
LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


8W58HK 

neettg, 

WAY  $1 

SENtONILL 

NflV  2  R  2001 

li  U  ¥     t  U    LUUI 

Ur  BERKELEY 

General  Library 
LD  21A-50m-8,'57                                University  of  California 
(C8481slO)476B                                                  Berkeley 

- 


Tb 


